


Keep Me Forever

by Descarada



Series: Eskel and His Angel [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Bottom Eskel (The Witcher), Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Fluff and Smut, In that Geralt overhears Eskel/Jaskier, Jaskier | Dandelion Being a Feral Bastard, Light Angst, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Oral Sex, Sex Worker Jaskier | Dandelion, Switching, Winter At Kaer Morhen, Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher), Witchersexual Jaskier | Dandelion, waking your witcher boyfriend up with a blowjob
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:41:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 38,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25192570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Descarada/pseuds/Descarada
Summary: Eskel has fallen head over heels for Jaskier, and is taking him to Kaer Morhen for the winter. However, there is trepidation and mistrust on the part of the other witchers. Can Jaskier break through their frosty exteriors?This is an AU where Jaskier is a sex worker who goes by Dandelion.
Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert, Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Eskel and His Angel [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1736464
Comments: 684
Kudos: 649
Collections: Ashes' Library, Jaskier or Geralt/others (with or w/out eachother)





	1. You Did What?

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the 'Eskel and His Angel' series. However, it can function as a stand alone, so feel free to jump in wherever you like. 
> 
> So far we have:
> 
> 1) Uncommon - Eskel meets Dandelion and has one of the best nights of his life. 
> 
> 2) The Real Me - Dandelion worries that if Eskel learns about the less manageable aspects of his personality, he'll dump him back at the brothel.
> 
> 3) Keep Me Forever - Eskel takes Dandelion to Kaer Morhen for the winter. 
> 
> For those who have read the first two stories WELCOME BACK! I'M SO HAPPY TO SEE YOU! I LOVE YOU! YES YOU!! So. One thing:
> 
> Eskel and Dandelion remain happy, and in love. They are also open to polyamory with the right witchers, and Eskel is deeply proud of Dandelion's gift of making other witchers feel loved and accepted. So...WHO KNOWS what could happen in Kaer Morhen in the winter? So, if you ONLY want to see them in a monogamous relationship, now is probably the time to turn back. But if you're good with that, dive in!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eskel tells his family that Dandelion is coming to visit. It goes about as well as expected.
> 
> This is a 'reprint' of Chapter One of The Real Me. I am repeating it here, so that people who are reading this work first have the scene set for them. If you've already read The Real Me, feel free to skip to Chapter 2.
> 
> ====
> 
> “I met someone. He’s coming to visit in the winter.” Now Eskel had said it out loud twice, but he could still barely contain the jittery excitement and the whiff of fear. The fear that it wouldn’t really happen. That it hadn’t happened to begin with.
> 
> “Where’d you meet him?” asked Geralt.
> 
> “He works at Madam Novak’s brothel.”
> 
> “Hmmmm.” Said Geralt.
> 
> He could see Geralt choosing his words carefully.
> 
> “He works for Madam Novak?” He asked.
> 
> “Yes.” Said Eskel.
> 
> “Did you meet him…at his work?” Asked Geralt.
> 
> “Yes I was a client. I was paying. Though he gave me far more than what I arranged with the madam.”
> 
> “But you paid extra anyway didn’t you?” Asked Lambert.
> 
> Eskel was silent.
> 
> “See? He knew you were a soft touch,” said Lambert. Geralt raised his eyebrows in tacit agreement.

Eskel

Eskel admired the efficient wit of a limerick. He enjoyed a bawdy drinking song. But he’d never cared much for poetry.

That is, until he met Dandelion.

Dandelion loved poetry. That might not have been enough to lead Eskel into his current situation. However, Dandelion also made Eskel feel like a selkie without her coat. That kind of love sickness begged to be expressed, which Eskel didn’t feel capable of doing without some assistance.

That was how he’d ended up here— flipping intensely through a book, trying to find any poem referencing yellow blooms.

It was morning, and Eskel was in the kitchens of Kaer Morhen. He was wearing a brown linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He had a long white apron tied around his neck and hips. A plate of pork ribs and a bowl of bread were on the table in front of him. He was sitting on a bench he'd made with his own hands from the trees surrounding the keep.

Eskel felt more comfortable in the kitchen than in the cavernous dining hall. So he’d built a table and put it in the kitchen near the stove. Eskel was at ease there, so he usually chose it for family talks.

He’d asked his brothers and Vesemir to meet him this morning because he had an announcement. Dandelion was coming for a visit. Eskel wasn't exactly looking forward to the conversation. He knew they were going to rake him over the coals. You try convincing a bunch of ruffian witchers that the man you hired for sex actually likes you when you aren’t paying him.

But that wasn’t why he was nervous. He was nervous because he’d only spent one full day with Dandelion. That day was a single shining point in time that felt far too good to be true. Such a thing feels like a dream. Like it could fall apart in your hands. Disintegrate like an illusion crafted by an especially cruel sorceress.

But it had surely happened. Eskel’s steel pendant was gone from his neck. That proved Dandelion had accepted his gift. Dandelion had also agreed to visit. So if Eskel had to face down a couple of dubious brothers, then he would. But his nerves were such that he’d barely touched the absurdly lavish breakfast he’d made.

Lambert plopped down on the other side of the table. Eskel blinked. He was still staring at the book but realized he hadn’t comprehended anything on the page for the last few moments. He closed the book and faced his younger brother.

“What’s up?” Asked Lambert.

He grabbed a pork rib off of Eskel’s plate and bit off a sloppy bite. He stretched as he chewed. Lambert had obviously awoken recently. His tunic was lying on him crooked. His short receding hair was rumpled. His canny eyes were still relaxed and lazy.

Eskel looked around. “I wanted to talk to everyone.”

“Well fuck Geralt, he’s primping.”

“Primping?” Eskel asked.

“He’s headed back out. Gotta get his hairband on just right. Spit it out, goat dad.”

Eskel decided he should just get started. Lambert would be antagonizing him the longest, so he might as well give him a head start.

“I met someone. He’s coming for a visit this winter.”

Lambert waggled his eyebrows and took another bite of the meat. His fingers were sloppy now.

“A visit, ay? You’ve never brought someone for a visit. Must be serious.”

“He’s special,” said Eskel.

“Well hell. Where’d you meet him? You were just working in Temeria, right? He that leather worker on south street? He seems your type.”

Eskel knit his brow. “What do you know about my type?”

“I don’t know. He’s dumb and handsome. Knows how to dress.”

“I. No.” Said Eskel. Where did Lambert get his ideas? “He works at Madam Novak’s brothel.”

Eskel knew this next part was coming, so he just settled in.

“A whore, Eskel? You serious?” Lambert said, incredulity and pork tumbling from his mouth. He swallowed and tried again. “You know they’re paid to like you, right?”

“Get it all out,” said Eskel, waving his hand in a gesture of mock generosity.

“Brother, when they say you’re the strongest hottest hunk of love they’ve ever met, that is built into the price.”

“Done yet?” Asked Eskel.

“I’m fucking with you but the point is, maybe don’t get your hopes up for a visit,” said Lambert.

“He’s coming,” said Eskel.

“They can fake that too you know,” said Lambert with a knowing grin.

Eskel rolled his eyes. A tiny voice in the back of his head agreed that he shouldn’t get his hopes up. No part of him doubted Dandelion's sincerity. It just hardly felt real anymore now that he was in drafty crumbling Kaer Morhen with livestock to care for and stairwells to fix. So far from the spiced candles. The honeysuckle wine. The strong smooth thighs clenched to his sides. The Please Eskel I need you. It was as if he were remembering it through a veil.

Geralt ambled into the room. He was fully dressed, hairband securely in place. He smelled like citrus and his angles were sharp. His clean black tunic created a striking contrast with his white hair. His tunic was tucked into tight black trousers. Eskel swore he must have to sew those things on. But fuck if they didn’t look good.

“Morning. What’s the news, Eskel?” Geralt saw the ribs on Eskel’s plate and his face opened in eagerness.

“Eskel met a whore who was nice to him so now he thinks he’s getting married.” Said Lambert, and he swatted Eskel’s shoulder playfully.

Geralt shot Lambert an irritated look. “I didn’t ask you, asshole.”

Lambert flipped him off.

Geralt swung his legs over the bench and settled next to Eskel. He grabbed a piece of meat off his plate.

“Does anyone cook their own food in this house?” Asked Eskel. But he wasn’t bothered. He’d made triple what he needed because his brothers were nothing if not predictable.

“You know that piece was for me,” said Geralt with a wink.

Eskel smiled and nudged Geralt’s arm with his elbow.

“It was.”

“Oh stop flirting, you two.” Said Lambert.

“You’re just jealous.” Said Geralt. “So what’s going on, brother.”

“I met someone. He’s coming to visit in the winter.” Now Eskel had said it out loud twice, but he could still barely contain the jittery excitement and the whiff of fear. The fear that it wouldn’t really happen. That it hadn’t happened to begin with.

“Where’d you meet him?” asked Geralt.

“He works at Madam Novak’s brothel.”

“Hmmmm.” Said Geralt.

He could see Geralt choosing his words carefully.

“He works for Madam Novak?” He asked.

“Yes.” Said Eskel.

“Did you meet him…at his work?” Asked Geralt.

“Yes I was a client. I was paying. Though he gave me far more than what I arranged with the madam.”

“But you paid extra anyway didn’t you?” Asked Lambert.

Eskel was silent.

“See? He knew you were a soft touch,” said Lambert. Geralt raised his eyebrows in tacit agreement.

“Is it possible that someone likes me as I am?” Asked Eskel.

“No.” Said Lambert.

“Fuck you Lambert.” Said Geralt.

“Nothing personal. It applies to me too.” Protested Lambert. “A couple of plug ugly witchers.” Then he pointed at Geralt. “Doesn’t apply to you though pretty boy, you get laid all the time so fuck off.”

Eskel rubbed the mass of scarring on his face.

“See he only does that when he’s upset,” said Geralt. “Leave him alone.”

Eskel blurted out “I used axii on him.”

The silence was swift and complete. It hung there for a moment before Geralt punctured it.

“You what?” Asked Geralt. 

The pork ribs were forgotten. He twisted his body on the bench to look fully at Eskel.

“I know what it sounds like. I only used it because he asked me to. To find out what he really thought of me.” Said Eskel. “He said I was...” Eskel stopped. He couldn’t even say the word gorgeous out loud. It was too ridiculous in the light of day under Lambert’s insistent glare.

“He said you were what??” Asked Lambert.

Eskel sighed. “He said he liked me. I didn’t believe him. So he told me to use axii to ask him for the truth.”

“You fuck him on axii?” Asked Geralt, his voice still strained with disbelief.

“Eskel!” Said Lambert. “You dog! I would’ve expected better from you.”

“No! No!” Said Eskel.

“Did you plant suggestions? Is that why he wants you?” Asked Lambert.

“No!” Insisted Eskel. “I only asked him what he thought of me. Then I took it off!!!”

He had meant to stay calm during this little chat. He had not planned to mention the axii at all. But he’d felt the childish need to prove that Dandelion liked him, so it had just tumbled out.

“What did he say?” Asked Geralt, throwing him a lifeline.

“That I rescued his niece from a basilisk when he was a youngling and he’d always had a crush on me.”

Lambert was staring, jaw still open.

“Lety Pankratz?” Asked Geralt. “The one you ripped from the creature's stomach?”

“Yes! That’s his niece.” Eskel said.

“I remember that. Wasn’t that like..ten years back?” Asked Geralt.

“I remember that too,” said Lambert. “I always wondered. How’d a little girl get picked off by a fuckin basilisk?”

“They were sheep shearing, which takes two people.” Said Eskel. “It was just him and his sister after their parents and her husband all died of a plague. They thought the little one was occupied in the house but she’d wandered off on her own.”

“I didn’t think basilisks usually came that close to town.” Said Lambert.

“There was a fire that day out in the caves. So the creature was driven closer. Just bad luck all around.”

“Good thing you were nearby.” Said Geralt, shaking his head.

Vesemir walked in then. He had clearly been up the longest. He was already sweating, likely from starting his chores before the sun rose. He had work boots on and his gray hair was tied back.

“What are you pups barking about?” He asked.

“Eskel met someone. He’s coming for a visit,” said Geralt, reaching for more food from Eskel’s plate.

Vesemir looked at Eskel. Then his eyes dropped to the book still sitting closed at his elbow.

“Don’t bring books to the table. You see how these animals eat.” Said Vesemir.

Geralt and Lambert looked up from their ribs, both faces smeared with gravy. Geralt hastily rubbed his face with his hands and then wiped his fingers on Eskel's pants under the table.

“Hey!” Eskel protested.

“What?” Asked Geralt, completely straight faced apart from the tiniest quirk of his lips.

Vesemir swiped the book and moved it to a shelf. “So who’d you meet?” He asked. “You’ve never brought anyone to Kaer Morhen before. He must be special.”

“His name is Julian. Goes by Dandelion,” said Eskel.

Lambert choked and then slammed his chest with his fist.

“I should just wait to eat until you’re done with this whole damn thing.” Said Lambert. “Dandelion? You’re talking about Dandelion??”

Geralt whistled low under his breath.

“You’ve heard of him?” Asked Eskel.

“Course I have.” Said Lambert.

“Me too,” said Geralt. “Supposed to be gorgeous.”

“Heard he’s fuckin talented.” Said Lambert.

“He is all of those things.” Said Eskel smugly.

“And he wants you? Conveniently. After you used axii on him?” Said Lambert.

Geralt threw a piece of bread at Lambert’s face.

“Jackass,” said Geralt.

“You two always gang up on me.” Said Lambert.

“If you weren’t such a cunt we wouldn’t have to,” Said Geralt.

Vesemir walked to the barrel of mead in the corner and drew a pitcher.

“I was glad to have you all here for an unseasonal visit. And now all you can do is ride my nerves with your bickering.”

He set the pitcher on the table along with some mugs.

“He had to be impressed.” Vesemir said. “You cutting the girl out. Hell, I was impressed. We all were. I made you a pendant for it if I remember right.”

Eskel nodded. Unthinkingly he touched his neck. Lambert noticed. Fuck.

“Where is it?” Asked Lambert.

“I left it in my room,” said Eskel. If only he could stop giving his brothers more opportunities to be irritating.

“Ha.” Said Lambert. “You’re the worst liar on the continent. When you lie, you can’t look anyone in the eyes.”

Geralt chuckled. “It’s true. You gaze at the ceiling when you lie.” His chuckle rolled into a laugh. “Like a baby with a stolen sweet.”

Eskel tried not to look at the ceiling but ended up looking at the floor which wasn’t much better.

“Seriously. Why are you lying?” Asked Lambert.

Geralt caught his eye despite Eskel's best efforts.

“Did you--?” Asked Geralt. He stopped.

Eskel looked at him pleadingly.

“Donkey balls,” said Lambert. “You gave it to Dandelion.”

Eskel said nothing. To give himself somewhere else to look, he picked up his mug and drank deep.

“You did.” Said Geralt firmly.

Eskel was chugging now. Lambert slapped the table and let out a “Wowwwwww.”

Geralt pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh Eskel.”

“Vesemir makes us those in the Kaer Morhen forge.” Said Lambert. “They mean something. And you gave it to a man you’ve literally met once and who you were paying to like you.”

“Twice.” Said Eskel. “I met him twice. And I know they mean something.” 

“This doesn’t bother you?” Asked Lambert, turning to Vesemir.

“When you give a gift, you let it go.” Said Vesemir, shrugging and taking a seat next to Lambert. “If you continue to grip it, it was never truly a gift.”

“I guess so.” Said Lambert.

“And saving a life he loved? That’s no frivolous connection.” Said Vesemir. “It must have meant everything to him. How old was he then?”

“He was fifteen years of age at the time.” Said Eskel. “I didn’t even recognize him when I saw him last week. So grown and in all his finery.”

“He gets his lingerie handmade from Oxenfurt.” Said Lambert, taking a long drag of his mead, then wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “It’s silk. Floral dyes enchanted for richness.The lace is silk too, with gold threading.”

Eskel remembered how his fingers felt sliding across the silk. Sliding the silk off of Dandelion. How it looked dotted with precum.

“Of course your Dandelion is welcome.” Said Vesemir. “And these two will behave or they’ll find my boot up their asses.”

“Hey, don’t lump me in with him.” Said Geralt.

“It’ll be good to have some beauty and culture around here for a change,” said Vesemir.

Eskel beamed.

“Oh just because Eskel is your favorite.” Grumbled Lambert.

“If you weren’t such cunt you’d be his favorite,” said Geralt. Lambert kicked him under the table. Geralt grunted like an irritated mare and kicked him back.

Vesemir shook his head. “Can you two stop?”

Lambert crossed his arms.

“Forgive me for caring enough about this lovestruck dummy to tell him the truth. You’ll all smile and be polite while he gets his heart drawn and quartered.”

“He’s an adult Lambert,” said Vesemir. “And if he’s happy we’re happy.”

Eskel held out his plate, offering Vesemir some ribs. The old witcher rubbed his belly.

“Oh no. Not for me. Meat for breakfast makes you lazy. It’s a breakfast for people who have no intention of getting any work done.”

Normally Lambert would tease Vesemir for lecturing them on the evils of a heavy breakfast. But he was not done with the topic of Eskel’s love life.

“You cannot honestly say you aren’t suspicious of this,” said Lambert, looking to Geralt for support.

“Hmmmm.” Said Geralt. Everyone knew that was his annoyed hmmm. But he didn’t argue the point either.

Vesemir leaned forward, folding his hands in front of him on the table and looking at the rest of them meaningfully.

”Uh oh. Here comes the wisdom.” Said Lambert.

Vesemir handily ignored the remark. There were times Eskel thought Vesemir was going deaf. But no. He was just incredibly adept at ignoring any of them when he needed to.

“You pups would do well to remember that witchers and whores are natural allies.”

Lambert held up his hands as though in surrender. “Nothing wrong with the profession. Just with Eskel being an idiot and not understanding the fuckin arrangement,” he protested.

“How’s that?” Asked Eskel, looking at Vesemir. He’d get the hang of ignoring Geralt and Lambert too.

“We have the same enemies.” Said Vesemir. “Zealotry. Hypocrisy. Clerics. Politicians looking for scapegoats. And when they go to burn down a brothel, we’re their next stop, and no mistake. Never forget why the keep is crumbled and the bones of witchers line the moat.”

They were all silent. They knew Vesemir had only survived the siege by playing dead under the corpses of their friends. Even Lambert shut up.

“Think of it this way.” Said Vesemir. “We both provide a necessity. Survival. But they hate that they need us. Same thing.” Shrugged the old witcher.

Eskel could feel Lambert struggling to keep his mouth shut. His brothers had been silenced but they obviously still had doubts. They clearly thought he, a century old mutant monster killer, was a babe in the woods. Eskel sighed inwardly. Maybe he was, at least in matters of the heart. He’d rarely gotten this kind of attention before the face scars. And after? Almost never. So yes, maybe he allowed himself to fall. To plummet as far and as fast as love’s gravity would take him. But wasn’t that braver? Braver than Lambert, who alienated people before he could be rejected? Braver than Geralt, who grunted at people and waited for them to go away?

Eskel knew Dandelion was sincere and that was all that mattered.

And as for his brothers misgivings? He wasn’t worried. If Dandelion. WHEN Dandelion came to visit they were all going to fall in love with him. Eskel couldn’t conceive of a person immune to his angel’s charms. He just had to get him here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gifted cover art for this fic by the darling Sarathebonsai, which I am so grateful for. When anyone creates anything for one of my fics it's like the heavens are opening up. XD 
> 
> It is handlettered and has Eskel's sword charm from the necklace as well as a flower for our dear Buttercup/Dandelion/Jaskier. 
> 
> So I have inserted it below and I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> Thank you so much Sara!! ILYSM!! xoxo


	2. A Lesson in Negotiation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eskel and Dandelion are about a day's ride out of Kaer Morhen when a cockatrice bursts into the clearing where they're having lunch. Hot on the tail of the cockatrice is Geralt of Rivia, the white wolf. The witchers kill the beast and they all ride on to Posada to collect the reward. But the alderman is a shady fucker, and Dandelion jumps in to help.
> 
> ====
> 
> Dandelion stared at Geralt like a fool for several long seconds before regaining enough composure to look to Eskel for validation. 
> 
> Eskel met his eyes and grinned. “I know.” The witcher said, eyes twinkling.
> 
> Geralt looked at Eskel sharply. “What?” He demanded. “What do you know?”
> 
> Eskel chuckled. “Nothing, pretty boy.”
> 
> Geralt snorted something about hanging out with Lambert too much, and stomped off to find Roach.
> 
> Dandelion watched him go. Geralt’s trousers were tailored within an inch of their lives, so his ass was displayed quite prominently. Dandelion wasn’t sure how he’d been assessed. But he certainly had formed an impression of Geralt. Well, certainly of his ass.
> 
> “Yes?” asked Eskel, mirth in his voice.
> 
> “So.” said Dandelion. “Um.”
> 
> “Just say it.” said Eskel.

Dandelion

Dandelion was weak.

Not in general.

Not as a rule.

Just...in the knees.

Watching one witcher fight a beast was enough to entrance him. But two?

He leaned his back against the tree, practically boneless. He clutched the trunk behind him and breathed methodically to slow his pulse. He didn’t even notice the dirt and sap the bark was depositing on his clothing and hair.

He’d just been sitting in the clearing with Eskel. They’d stopped for lunch. Eskel had been trying to eat while Dandelion had been trying to distract him. He’d been casually fondling the witcher over his clothes as he ate. Eskel had pretended to care about his bread and dried meat; he valiantly bit off hunks and chewed. But he also scooted closer and leaned into Dandelion’s touches. He rumbled little sighs in the back of his throat while Dandelion palmed his pecs and kissed his shoulder blades. Eskel was just...a handful. His ass. His tummy. His chest. Fucking glorious. Life was good.

Until it was terrifying.

Eskel had frozen. Dandelion knew now that when the witcher froze up like that, he’d heard or scented something. He was like an extremely sexy early warning system--increased sense abilities and all that.

Dandelion first assumed there was another traveler approaching, and he was ready to be entirely cranky about. He was already growing hard rubbing against Eskel, and frankly he’d been hoping it was leading to something more. Something naked. But then Eskel’s eyes blew wide and he jumped up, unsheathing his sword and knocking the food across dirt and pine needles. That was unnerving. Dandelion looked around. He didn’t have a weapon. He’d have to ask for a weapon later. For now, he scrambled around and grabbed a large rock. But the rock looked rather pitiful when the cockatrice thundered into the clearing.

Dandelion could hold his own under most circumstances. He may not be a trained warrior but he was quick and he fought dirty. He prefered to survive, thank you very much. However, this massive scaled beast was well past his area of speciality. Normally, if he was in over his head he employed the ‘flight’ option in ‘fight or flight’. But not now. Not with his love facing the thing down. What if the witcher got in trouble? Dandelion would absolutely throw himself into the creature's maw if it would help Eskel survive.

But Eskel had been just fine. He’d fought the creature valiantly, like it was his job. Because it was. He was so practiced and sure, that Dandelion had even relaxed a bit and enjoyed the display.

Dandelion had seen Eskel fight many years ago, but that hadn’t lessened the thrill of seeing it again. If anything, it filled him with nostalgia. It took him back to the day he’d seen Eskel for the first time. That day that Dandelion had stood before a terrifying flying monster and felt completely safe because of the witcher in red. Watching Eskel do what he did best made Dandelion’s heart ache. It also made his cock ache. The way the witcher’s powerful body could spin and leap to evade the creature was magnificent. A man that large and strong just shouldn’t be that fast and nimble.

Then another witcher had burst into the clearing out of nowhere to help kill the beast. He was the same. Ferocious. Graceful. He had white hair. Black eyes. Grey skin with black veins snaking across his face.

The two witchers stood back to back. They flicked their wrists and sent their weapons spinning. Then they caught them again with a surety similar to when Dandelion inhaled and expected oxygen to fill his lungs. 

Witchers mostly all knew each other. There were so few of them left. And this one obviously knew Eskel well.

It was the way they moved together. They felt each other without words. Responsive. Entwined. Like one. It had been mesmerizing.

They’d made short work of the beast. The dead cockatrice now lay steaming in the clearing, and Dandelion stood, leaning against a tree.

Dandelion was so dazed, that he didn’t realize at first that the new witcher was standing directly in front of him with his arms crossed. He was speaking to Eskel but was looking directly at Dandelion.

“So he did come,” the other witcher said. His words snapped Dandelion back to focus.

How had he known?

Dandelion smiled his most charming smile, imbued with every filthy thought currently running around in his mind.

“Why yes, I think I may have.”

It only then occurred to Dandelion that the black-eyed witcher must have meant that Dandelion had come _to visit Kaer Morhen_. That seemed odd. Why wouldn’t he come to Kaer Morhen? He said he was going to didn’t he? Had there been any doubt? If so, why?

“Hmmmmm.” The witcher said. He didn’t react at all to the accidental double entendre. Not so much as a twitch. He dragged his eyes up and down Dandelion mercilessly.

Dandelion was being assessed, that was clear. He was being appraised and rated as a worthy or unworthy companion for Eskel. That was fair. Eskel was worthy of any protectiveness people felt for him. He deserved that kind of love. 

Dandelion was grateful he was still in Eskel’s clothes. He may need to prove himself as a partner for Eskel, but he didn’t need to prove that Eskel loved him. The witcher’s clothing felt like armor designed for this exact moment: the loose, low hanging tunic that displayed the bite marks on the flesh between his neck and shoulders, Eskel’s sword pendant nestled in his chest hair. And Eskel had said other witchers could scent the fact that he’d been marked. Dandelion didn’t need to prove anything. He could just lean against the tree and stare back into those fascinating black marble eyes. He knew that was from the elixir, but he’d never seen it in person. Amazing.

“He means hello.” said Eskel. “This is Geralt.” Eskel clapped the other witcher on the back.

As he’d suspected. Geralt of Rivia, in the flesh. Dandelion had obviously read about him. You couldn’t study witchers and not know about the white wolf. He was the most famous one. Dandelion knew about the extra trials that had turned his hair white. He knew about his most famous kills. He had read several accounts of the slaughter at Blaviken. He took the Blaviken accounts with a grain of salt. There was hysteria surrounding witchers, and Dandelion knew not to trust it. He may not know all of the truth about the white wolf yet, but he knew that Eskel loved him. It was etched on Eskel’s face as surely if it were written in ink. That was all Dandelion needed to know.

Dandelion had also read that Geralt had golden eyes. He suspected the gold would be revealed after the elixir wore off. However, in an omission that bordered on libel, none of the books had mentioned how gorgeous Geralt was. Therefore, Dandelion was ill prepared to see him face to face.

Even though they weren’t actually related, Geralt did share a square jaw and angular cheekbones with Eskel. He also had long lashes and a chin dimple that served to accentuate the graceful symmetry of his face. On top of it all, Geralt’s black studded leather armor called to mind bindings and whips. Dear sweet Melitele. Even the heavy brow and intense frown couldn’t hide the fact that the man was unbelievably pretty. Neither could the caked on dirt and blood from fighting the cockatrice. Dandelion was quite sure nothing could.

Despite Geralt’s beauty, he was more emotionally intimidating than Eskel. Dandelion guessed that to other people, Eskel was more intimidating. Half his face was scarred and his voice was metallic. But other people were idiots. Eskel was gentle and tender and always verged on self consciousness. Geralt was actually more intimidating, because even though his body seemed at ease, it was carefully reserved. He seemed like a man with a fuse. It was a good thing Dandelion wasn’t easily intimidated.

Dandelion stared like a fool for several long seconds before regaining enough composure to look to Eskel for validation.

Eskel met his eyes and grinned. “I know.” The witcher said, eyes twinkling.

Geralt looked at Eskel sharply. “What?” He demanded. “What do you know?”

Eskel chuckled. “Nothing, pretty boy.”

Geralt snorted something about hanging out with Lambert too much, and stomped off to find Roach.

Dandelion watched him go. Geralt’s trousers were tailored within an inch of their lives, so his ass was displayed quite prominently. Dandelion wasn’t sure how _he’d_ been assessed. But he had formed an impression of Geralt. Well, certainly of his ass.

“Yes?” asked Eskel, mirth in his voice.

“So.” said Dandelion. “Um.”

“Just say it.” said Eskel. He moved to stand behind Dandelion, wrapping his arms around his waist from behind. Eskel leaned his chin down on Dandelion’s shoulder, and they watched Geralt leave together.

“Yes. Right.Yes.” said Dandelion, closing his hands over Eskel’s. “Soooo do all witchers just have perfect asses then?” He turned his head to kiss Eskel on the cheek. “I mean I’ve only met two, but astronomers at Oxenfurt could calibrate their instruments to the perfect half moon curves on the two of you.”

Eskel chuckled and playfully nibbled at the bite marks he’d left on Dandelion’s neck. Dandelion shivered.

“You know he heard that, right? Witcher hearing.” Eskel said.

Dandelion shrugged helplessly. “Is he angry? The way he stamped off--”

“Nah.” Said Eskel. He was right next to Dandelion’s ear. The witcher’s stubble whispered on his own. He was still sweaty from the fight with the cockatrice. “He’s just kind of a brat sometimes.”

Pretty boy? Brat? This may be a very different dynamic than Dandelion was expecting. And he certainly wasn’t disappointed about it. If he were absolutely honest, Eskel calling Geralt a brat immediately filled his mind with the fantasy of being between two witchers. He pushed it out of his mind.

He would never do anything, not a single thing, to hurt or push away Eskel. He’d die first. And he definitely didn’t want anyone to think he was just a witcherfucker.

Ok, so he did think witchers were outrageously sexy. Seeing Eskel cut open that beast and save his niece when Dandelion was in the throes of adolescence had rearranged his molecules, no doubt. But it wasn’t just that. He wasn’t someone who fetishized witchers as though they were monsters or aliens or something. After meeting Eskel, he’d gone on to study witchers for the better part of a decade. He read or collected everything he could find on witchers. He hadn’t just fallen in love with Eskel in person. He had fallen in love on the pages of torn musty discarded tomes. Their story. What they gave the world. He was attracted to their complete lack of bullshit. Their competence. Their grace. The fact that they actually saved lives. And no one seemed to show them the appreciation they deserved. In fact, it was the opposite. Dandelion knew a little something about being stigmatized, and it enraged him to see that kind of treatment heaped on witchers.

He wanted Geralt to know. He wanted Eskel’s entire family to understand that he respected them. But one could also disfavorably compare his activities to an obsessed lover or fan, so he planned to share little and step lightly. This would be a delicate operation, and challenging. Dandelion usually leaned so heavily on his words, but he knew they weren’t going to be particularly helpful now. People who didn’t trust easily, didn’t care about words. He would have to show them, somehow. And he was ready, just not as prepared as he had hoped.

Dandelion had hoped to have more intelligence on the rest of the wolves before he met them. He had expected to spend the last day or so on the road pelting Eskel with questions. Preparing. Learning the dynamics. Did the white wolf really kill all those people at Blaviken? Why did Triss joke about Lambert? How did Vesemir survive the siege on Kaer Morhen?

But before he could ask any of those questions, Geralt had come out of nowhere. And now Dandelion had even more questions. He’d sensed Geralt’s surprise that he’d actually shown up, so now he wanted to know what Eskel’s family had said about him.

Certainly Dandelion was not complaining about having a second sexy witcher around. But now he had to play it by ear. Learn by observation. He could do that. He was a keen observer.

Soon, Geralt returned with a brown mare he called Roach, and they were off with very little fuss.

\--------------

Dandelion rode dutifully behind Eskel and Geralt, who walked next to their horses. The two witchers had chopped up most of the cockatrice and lashed the weeping severed body parts onto their steeds. It had been...disgusting. Hacking at creature limbs was one of the less glamorous sides of witcher work. He’d noticed Geralt glancing at him a few times after a particularly revolting hack or squelch. Dandelion had managed not to hurl though, so his dignity was intact. Maybe he had passed that test? Thankfully, Butterscotch was not expected to bear anything other than Dandelion, so he rode on.

Apparently, Geralt had come out to meet them because one of the passes had suffered a landslide and he’d wanted to make sure they avoided the trouble and delay. But then the cockatrice showed up and Geralt had helped with that too. And now they were on their way to Posada with a dismembered cockatrice.

Posada was on the way to Kaer Morhen, and according to the two experienced witchers, it would be the place most likely to have a reward posted for the cockatrice. As they walked in front of Dandelion, leading their horses, he watched the two witchers and listened to them speak.

They caught up on Kaer Morhen: what repairs needed to be done this winter, what Vesemir wanted them to build. Eskel asked after the well-being of something called a lil beater? Bleater? He’d have to ask later.

As they spoke, Dandelion saw they were similar in almost intangible ways. Their inflections, both of voice and movements, reflected one another. Geralt’s voice was smoother than Eskel’s, but his tone was more reserved. Their body language was open and leaned towards one another. They were at ease with each other in a way that manifested a lifetime of familiarity. Dandelion didn’t even think they always noticed it when they touched.

Dandelion hadn’t asked directly about the nature of Eskel’s relationships with the other wolves. He had felt that if the witcher wanted to tell him, he would. He knew certainly that witchers must have intense relationships. Being part of a dwindling, stigmatized group made them insular and mistrustful. Having been taken from or dumped off by families as children, they must be everything to each other. Who knows what their relationship was beyond that, or how Dandelion showing up in their lives changed it? This was all so complicated. There was so much he didn’t know.

Dandelion was so focused on watching the two witchers that time passed quickly. They arrived in Posada sooner than he expected. They went straight for the council house. Eskel looked at Geralt, then nodded towards it. Geralt understood immediately and went in to collect their reward.

Dandelion took that opportunity to slide off of Butterscotch. It was stupid but he didn’t want Geralt to witness any lack of grace on his part. Eskel held out a hand to steady his descent. How had he come to feel so safe with this man so quickly?

Geralt emerged from the council building moments later and said that the alderman would meet them at the tavern.

Eskel assigned everyone their tasks. He would take the horses to get water. Dandelion would order them all beer and food. Geralt would await the alderman.

Geralt and Dandelion walked in silence to the tavern after Eskel left them with the horses. Dandelion tried to think of something profound or entertaining to say, but mostly ended up babbling about their trip. Geralt was stone faced, though not mean. He wasn’t malicious. He was just...closed. The only time he reacted was when Dandelion mentioned Triss.

“Hmmm.” was what Geralt said to that. Dandelion felt the extreme lack of Eskel in that moment. He’d already gotten used to having a translator. But he desperately wanted to understand Geralt himself.

Once inside the modest tavern, Geralt wandered off to a table in a far corner without so much as much as a word. Dandelion waved down the tall, thin bartender, and found himself chatting with the man about the weather, his family, and local happenings. He needed time to gather himself and maybe some amusing anecdotes before he approached Geralt again. It felt like a challenge now to find something that would get a reaction from the stoic witcher.

The bartender was an amiable man. Dandelion ordered three beers and a basket of bread. When they arrived, he realized it was time to go back to Geralt. To try again. He wouldn’t be able to carry everything, so he stuffed the bread he’d ordered into the waistband of his trousers, and balanced the three beers. Here went nothing.

As he neared Geralt, he was once again struck by the beauty and intensity of the man. Geralt sat, gazing into the middle distance. The elixir had worn off and his skin was now fair with golden undertones, though it was still smeared with dirt, sweat, and cockatrice blood. His eyes were more golden still. He looked like granite, all firm lines and angles. Filthy, but yes. Still handsome.

Dandelion stopped in front of the table. Geralt looked up at him and his face relaxed when he saw the beer. This was his moment to impress the witcher. He could say something clever. Something deep. Something eloquent.

“I love how you just. Sit in the corner and brood.” Said Dandelion.

Well. It was an attempt.

Geralt’s eyes snapped to his face. They weren’t hostile. But they weren’t interested either. Dandelion felt entirely beside the point.

“May I?” Dandelion nodded to an empty chair. What a silly question. Of course he could. They were there together. But now that he’d said it, he felt he needed to wait for acknowledgement before he sat, by sheer force of social ritual. He stood. Geralt just looked at him quizzically. One of the beer steins began to slip from his hands, and his stomach lurched. A capable hand caught it. Eskel was there at his side. Dandelion exhaled with his entire body, and turned to smile at him. Eskel smiled that endearing lopsided smile of his, scars pulling at his lips.

Gods he loved him.

Eskel took the beer from his hands and set them on the table.

“Come on, Geralt.” Eskel said. “You don’t want to keep a man--” he looked down at the bread shoved in Dandelion’s waistband--”with bread in his pants waiting.” His eyes crinkled in amusement and he helped Dandelion unload the bread. Then he pulled out a chair in a gentlemanly gesture and nodded at it. Dandelion felt Eskel’s hand on the small of his back, guiding him to his chair. It anchored him. It reminded him that he belonged there. Then Eskel sat next to him and shot him a kind look. It said ‘I can see how hard you’re trying and I appreciate it’. Dandelion sat, preening under Eskel’s affectionate gaze.

Geralt was looking out the window, drinking his beer.

Eskel took a draught of beer and started to tell them where he’d left the horses and cockatrice remains, when a man in a maroon and gold doublet and cape approached the table. He had to be the alderman. He wore an air of professional superiority, as though he were doing the dingy tavern a favor with his presence. He carried a small bag that looked empty. There couldn’t have been more than a few coins in it.

“Eskel. Geralt. It’s been too long.” The man said. He showed his teeth in a facsimile of a smile.

Eskel nodded politely, but crossed his arms. Geralt grunted. He clearly didn’t return the sentiment.

“Gregor,” said Geralt. “By that you mean, it’s been too long since you last cheated me? And from the looks of your purse, you intend to do it again?”

Gregor tsk tsk’ed the witcher. “Geralt. Cheat is such a foul word. Not befitting a man of your honor. This is a fair price.”

The alderman dropped a bag on the table. Five coins slid out. Dandelion couldn’t stop the sharp intake of breath through his teeth. That was an insult. Even if he hadn’t seen the dangerous, disgusting work, he knew well enough the average payouts and this was meager to the extreme. He looked from Geralt to Eskel to see what they would do.

Geralt scowled but stayed quiet. Eskel looked unruffled, as usual. He pulled a flyer out of his shirt, opened it, and set it on the table. He smoothed it out and tapped it.

“This says 90 Oren.”

“Yes, but.” said the Alderman, sliding his fingers through his thinning blonde hair, “The beast had moved away from the city. So it wasn’t a threat anymore. We meant to take those announcements down, but just forgot. So really the reward would be nothing.” He lingered on the word ‘nothing’ and held his hands out in an open gesture. “But because I am a generous person who respects your profession, here are five orens to cover your lunch.”

Geralt’s nostrils flared and his jaw flexed. “That’s bullshit,” he said. “The stomach alone is worth 200 oren for alchemical purposes.”

Gregor shook his head. “Oh but we don’t have any sorcerers in town to harvest it. By the time we get one, it’ll be rotted. But you are welcome to leave it and we’ll provide the service of disposing of it.”

“So you can still make money off of the creature’s organs and skin, after you’ve cheated us?” It was a question, but Geralt said it like a statement, and one he found entirely predictable.

“Oh Geralt, are you always so paranoid?” asked Gregor. I’m only trying to help my old friends.”

Geralt growled. The man seemed nervous but not properly frightened. Perhaps Geralt leaving him with life and limb last time made him brave. But not completely stupid. He bobbed his head and began to back away slowly.

What a little man, throwing around his power, thought Dandelion.

“Alderman.” Said Dandelion casually. It was like bursting a bubble. It seemed like the other men had forgotten he was even there. Eskel and Geralt both whipped around to look at him. Geralt seemed annoyed. Eskel confused. The alderman froze at being called upon, but still looked around as though identifying an exit.

“What, young man?” Gregor said impatiently. The alderman looked him over, unimpressed.

“I just want to know what you’re going to do with the rest of the money.” Dandelion said, crossing his legs and leaning back in his chair. He laced his fingers behind his head.

“Rest of what money?” asked Gregor. “There is no more money. This is it. That’s all.” He pointed at the five pitiful coins lying on the table.

Dandelion shook his head. “Liar.”

Gregor’s eyebrows shot up on his forehead.

Eskel nudged him with his knee. Dandelion didn’t worry about it. He was going somewhere with this.

“Excuse me?” sputtered Gregor, drawing near once more. He leaned over the table. Dandelion just shrugged.

“The council meets on the first of the month,” he explained slowly, as if for a child. “Their seal is on that flyer, so they formally appropriated 90 Orens. So you had to withdraw it all. But you had no intention of giving it to these fine men, which is why you wanted to meet us here. What does that mean? That means you have 85 oren somewhere on your person. Why would you be carrying around 85 orens of taxpayer coin? Some light embezzlement perhaps? Something pretty for your mistress? I hear she’s partial to jewels.”

“What?? How dare you!” Gregor slammed his fist on the table. “That’s outrageous--”

Dandelion was not impressed by the display. He cut in acidly. “I agree, corruption and embezzlement is outrageous. It’s become rife here in Posada. I imagine the king is keen to get rid of it. Royalty doesn’t take well to thievery.” Dandelion looked him up and down. “Judging from your worn hems and slapdash tailoring, you aren’t favored enough to get away with it.”

Eskel unsuccessfully stifled a cackle. Geralt was watching Dandelion carefully now. He looked interested for the first time.

“You cease your treasonous talk this minute,” spit Gregor. His voice was louder this time, and more shrill. It hinted at a rising anxiety. Good.

At that moment, the barkeeper came with another bowl of bread. He skirted around the alderman and reached between Eskel and Dandelion to lay down the bread.

“Denof.” said Dandelion. The pointy, brunette man looked startled. He’d obviously expected to place down the basket unnoticed.

“Yes, master Dandelion?” He asked, rubbing his hands on his apron.

“You have a son, right? That’s what you said?” Dandelion asked.

“Yes I do, his name is Paul. He’s sixteen years old in May.” The man’s face lit up. People’s faces usually lit up when talking about their children, and it always made Dandelion feel wistful.

“How would you feel about sending your own son out to fight the next monster?” He asked. “When witchers refuse to service your town because Gregor refuses to pay them?”

Dennof’s eyes snapped to look at the alderman. “What? You aren’t paying them Gregor?”

Eskel and Geralt seemed a bit more relaxed now. They looked at Gregor and smiled, waiting.

“Yes Alderman. Are you paying us?” asked Geralt pointedly.

Gregor sputtered and he took too long to answer. The barkeeper’s expression grew knowing. Then outraged. “I would never. None of us would tolerate that. He can’t have our kids. They aren’t trained for monster hunting. Witchers are built for it. They have potions. Silver swords. Mutations.”

“Indeed,” said Dandelion. He patted Dennof’s arm. “Your sons would just be kindling. Maimed. Killed. So predictable. Practically homicide at the hands of council corruption if you ask me. But why don’t you see what other people think? So many other citizens come in here, hundreds a day I assume. You should ask them what they think of Gregor using the funds for his mistress--”

“Shut up this moment.” Screamed Gregor. “Leave, Dennof.” The barkeeper scurried away but not without giving the alderman a look that could wilt a stone.

“Let me give you some advice.” Hissed Gregor, drawing closer to Dandelion and leaning close. “Continue to mouth off and I’ll throw you in the stocks.”

Dandelion flopped his arms down then rubbed his chin in mock thought. “I mean you could. That’s certainly an option. But when Redania and Sodden both request a formal explanation for it from the king, you’d have to tell them the truth. That I was arrested for the crime of asking you to do the most simple, basic function of your job without stealing from the public coffers. By all means, go ahead, if that’s the kind of attention you crave.”

Eskel was smothering a smile. He looked like a kid in a classroom enjoying his mate smarting off to the teacher. Geralt was staring at Dandelion now, and his jaw had dropped just a touch. It was extremely satisfying.

Dandelion held out his wrists to Gregor and batted his eyes. “Arrest me, go ahead. I don’t like to share this much, but I’m actually quite happy to be bound. I could even do it myself. Rope bondage is one of my specialties.” He cut his eyes at Geralt and winked. Geralt cleared his throat. Gregor was not going to be distracted so easily though. If anything, his face looked more and more disdainful.

“Why would Redania or Sodden give a shit what a vagabond witcher’s whore is doing in stocks?”

Dandelion felt Eskel tense beside him, so he put his hand on his love’s leg and squeezed. Witcher whore. Dandelion actually, perversely, really liked the sound of that. He pushed ahead, speaking fast before Eskel could react angrily.

“Well, Lord Dulik in Sodden is my patron. And my sister Sarah Pankratz, Viscountess of Lettenhove is a close advisor and friend of the Redanian royal court. So I imagine they’d both file a petition. But feel free. Again, I don’t mind a good binding. And I’d be out of stocks by the evening.” He gave his most dazzling smile. “And I suspect that you, would be in them.”

Gregor’s face froze. “You are the viscountess’s brother Julian?” His voice sounded constricted.

Dandelion nodded blithely.

“Well. Well well.” Gregor laughed nervously. “Julian. What a pleasure to meet you. Your sister is quite a force of nature, isn’t she?”

Dandelion nodded again, smiling generously, enjoying the man's attempt to shovel his way out.

“Well. What a pleasure. What are you doing traveling with witchers, might I ask? In simple clothes--” (With bites and bruises all over your neck, went unspoken.)

“Well. I like keeping the company of honest people who work hard and help others.” He nodded to Eskel, then Geralt, making a point that Gregor was not counted in the number of honest folk.

“Of course, of course. I’ve worked with these men before, men of honor.” Stammered Gregor.

“ Also,” said Dandelion, pausing and savoring his words “you should see their cocks--”

Eskel made a choking sound. Gregor blinked. The threat of a smile passed over Geralt’s face. Dandelion leaned towards Gregor and whispered conspiratorially, mouthing the word dramatically...

“Spectacular.”

Gregor turned beet red and slammed the rest of the money down on the table. He made a few stammering attempts at a sentence. But then he clearly decided he was in over his head and he turned on a heel and left.

Eskel barked out a laugh. He reached for Dandelion and cradled his face in his hands.

“You’re such a little shit and I love you.” He kissed him sweetly.

“I love you too.” said Dandelion, in between kisses.

Geralt’s face was unreadable. Eskel just giggled quietly to himself.

“How did you know he had a mistress who liked jewels?” asked Geralt.

“A very good guess.” said Dandelion.

“And what about the council meetings?”

“It’s pretty common.” Said Dandelion, shrugging. “Meeting at the beginning of the month. Appropriating necessary funds for the month. And why did he want to meet us here instead of paying it out in front of his bookkeepers? Honestly.” Continued Dandelion. “I know you witchers like to stay out of politics but it does come in handy sometimes.”

Eskel grabbed the money and stuffed it in his shirt, grinning triumphantly.

“That’s enough for a roast pig dinner and two rooms for the night.”

Geralt grunted.

“That meant thank you.” said Eskel, turning to Dandelion.

Geralt smiled a small begrudging smile. Dandelion caught sight of his teeth. He had incisors that were a bit longer than the rest of his teeth. Little witcher fangs. Dandelion smiled wide, though he was glad no one could tell exactly what he was thinking that made him smile so.

“Well, it was my pleasure. After all, I expect at least one of those coins to be spent buying my supper.”

Eskel raised his glass.

“A toast to a successful day..in hunting and in negotiations.” They all drank deep.

“Now.” said Dandelion, wiping his face with his sleeve. “I adore the both of you--” He noticed Geralt blinking in surprise-- “but that beast smell is beginning to ripen. Let’s get my witchers a bath, shall we?”

He looked hopefully at Eskel then at Geralt.


	3. You Don't Have To, Though

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where things get explicit. If you don't like reading smut, you can read the first half then wait until the next chapter. You'll know when it's coming (no pun intended). PLEASE NOTE THE ADDITION OF THE BOTTOM!GERALT TAG, THOUGH IT HAPPENS IN A FLASHBACK/MEMORY.
> 
> Geralt is traveling now with Eskel and his new love, Dandelion. Geralt is perturbed by how easily and publicly they express love for each other. He's frustrated by how much he's charmed by Dandelion, despite his best efforts to resist. And he's slightly embarrassed by how much enjoys hearing them through the inn walls. 
> 
> Geralt has a solo performance here, with memories of past encounters with Eskel and visions of Dandelion intruding. The thought is much more affecting than he predicted.

Geralt 

Geralt’s room at the inn in Posada was better than what he was used to. The fireplace was cold and ashy, but a cord of firewood had been placed in it. The bath was going to be a tight fit, but it was steaming and ready. The sounds of people stomping in and out of the tavern below were muffled by the closed window. The room smelled vaguely dusty, but it could be a lot worse.

Geralt sat quietly on the edge of the bed. His hands rested on his knees. 

He was keeping it together. 

He was.

Even though his chest contracted. Even though his skin felt tight. 

He brushed at his trousers in short irritated bursts. They were still muddy and scuffed from sliding around after the cockatrice. It didn’t do much good. The witcher rolled his head in a slow circle, attempting to loosen the tension. 

Geralt had many years under his belt, relatively speaking, and they had granted him a sense of predictability. Not that he thought himself especially wise about the world at large. But his own life traveled a road well worn with deep, dried wheel tracks. And now, one dinner with Eskel and his pretty new plaything threatened to shove him off the road and into a ditch.

Geralt couldn’t point to any specific moment in which he’d decided that witchers weren’t capable of normal romantic relationships. It was just so obviously true that he’d always assumed it. Witchers weren’t normal, so it followed that they weren’t going to be sweet little halves of blushing couples.

The idea that the trials erased all feelings was a dramatization, of course. Geralt had feelings, such that they were. But he refused to wear them on his sleeve. That, and his dangerous, violent, transient lifestyle made for a piss poor recipe for stable romance, much _less_ a romance with a mortal human. Also, witchers were mutants. They weren’t built for loving. They were built for killing. They could be decent people, but they couldn’t cheat their basic construction.

It’s why he and Yennefer worked. They were the same. She was also unable or unwilling to pull down her defenses. When he’d confronted her about Istredd, it had been a standoff. They’d circled one another at length, employing metaphor and hedging words. But ultimately, she had refused to say ‘I love you” and in turn, so had he. And that made sense. Saying ‘I love you’ is making a promise you cannot fulfill.

But just moments ago, Eskel had said it to this _human_ , right in front of Geralt, the tavern patrons, and the gods themselves. Like it was so easy. Like it was _normal._ Like _they_ were normal. Yes, Eskel was bringing Dandelion to Kaer Morhen and therefore, had feelings for him. But acknowledging them openly like that was a commitment in and of itself.

Geralt felt like a fool now because he’d _thought_ Eskel shared in his estimation of the romance potential of a witcher. Apparently, he’d been wrong.

Then, Dandelion had _said it back_ . With Eskel’s tunic almost falling off him, smelling of the witcher from head to toe, he had giggled into Eskel’s lips and said “I love you too.” This human, renowned across the continent for his beauty, grace, and sexual prowess, had _said it back._ To a witcher. 

And _then_ , they’d both smiled like it had been nothing! Like they were two average lovers on a weekend in Posada. They could’ve been a farmer’s son and a blacksmith. Or a viscount and a...a...merchant. And they were just going to set up a little cottage together and raise little babies in their little...cottage. With babies. That’s what they acted like. What the entire fuck. 

It just wasn’t natural.

Geralt shook his head to clear it. He reminded himself that he was being melodramatic, as was his wont. Dandelion was enticing, but he wasn’t fit for a witcher. Geralt knew his reputation for aesthetics. Style. Culture. Comfort.

He’d find none of that at Kaer Morhen this winter. He’d find hard work and freezing piss. There was no satin or silk in the old crumbling keep. There were just burlap bags filled with feed for the animals. There was no culture or stage performances to pass the winter. There was just Vesemir barking at you to get up and make yourself useful, not to mention Lambert, who was already overtly hostile about the interloper. Geralt had smelled the spiced candles and honeysuckle wine on Dandelion. One winter stuck with a bunch of witchers who smelled like sweat, sword grease, and livestock, and he’d turn tail.

Yes. Dandelion would drift out of Eskel’s life soon enough. It was only the wolves who lasted.

There was a firm knock on the door and Geralt jolted in surprise. He was really sitting on the edge of the bed stewing. This is why people accused him of brooding. He wasn’t brooding, he was just thinking, godsdamnit.

His pulse was still racing from being startled when he swung the door open. Dandelion stood in the hall, holding a small bag Geralt recognized as Eskel’s medical kit. He hadn’t changed, so they must not have bathed yet. He still wore that too thin and too loose tunic unlaced with his thick chest hair curling above the neckline. 

“Hi. Yes. Hi.” Dandelion said with a hopeful smile.

He looked at Geralt with such warmth that the witcher instantly felt guilty. This man made Eskel happy. Devoted, loyal Eskel. And Geralt had been sitting there gleefully anticipating Dandelion dumping him.

Geralt grunted and nodded. He tried not to scowl. He was told he scowled, and it didn’t do any good to do so at this man. On top of making Eskel happy, Dandelion had tried his damndest to connect with Geralt today, and then negotiated an excellent rate for them.

Dandelion raised the small leather bag up between them. Items in it clinked around.

“Shall I check your wounds, Geralt?” He asked. Geralt liked the way he said his name, though he wasn't sure why. “It seems you’ve been cut.”

Dandelion’s swagger of earlier was gone. It had been replaced by a concern so nakedly sincere, that it made Geralt inwardly squirm.

“No. I’m fine,” he answered.

Dandelion nodded towards Geralt’s shoulder. The witcher glanced down. Sure enough, there was just the hint of the end of a scratch. The witcher frowned and traced its path with his finger. It crawled up his shoulder to his neck. It was nothing though. Part of him almost wished it _were_ something. Enough to give him an excuse to strip off his armor for the young man. 

Gods. This was Eskel’s human. He was not for Geralt to fuck and discard. 

“You sure?” asked Dandelion.

Geralt nodded. 

“You’re going to have to do that with one hand,” said Dandelion. “The dressing will be loose. Crooked.”

“I’ve got it,” said Geralt. “I do this all the time.”

“I don’t mind,” Dandelion insisted.

Geralt just stared at Dandelion. He waited for him to realize that the witcher wasn't going to budge. Finally, Dandelion sighed in resignation. He rummaged in the bag and brought out a small stoppered bottle of something.

“After you wash, rub this on it.”

Geralt looked at the outstretched hand, nimble fingers covered in rings, but didn’t reach to take the bottle.

“I know how to take care of wounds myself.” He said. After the words came out, he realized they sounded dismissive. Maybe even petulant. He cringed inwardly. This man was just trying to be kind. 

But Dandelion’s face didn’t fall. It just tilted a little.

“I know. But you don’t have to. You know that, right?” he said.

Dandelion’s expression was so simple. There was no fear. No pity. Just openness and a bit of sympathy. An offer of help. For him. It made Geralt feel like a bit of an asshole. 

The witcher sighed. The least he could do was to take the bottle. He stepped forward and held out his hand. Dandelion put the bottle into Geralt's palm, and the witcher closed his fingers a little too soon. 

He hadn’t meant to close his fingers over Dandelion’s hand. He pulled away quickly but not before hearing Dandelion's heartbeat pick up, and not from fear. Not before registering the warmth of his fingers, and noting a few small calluses. Probably from playing that lute strapped to Butterscotch.

Geralt cleared his throat and turned away to put the bottle down. He noticed the cold hearth. It was still cold in this room. So if he threw Igni in that moment to light the firewood, it was most certainly to warm himself. It was definitely not to impress the handsome man standing in the doorway with his heart thudding. Geralt threw Igni and the fireplace leapt to life, crackling with flames. 

He turned back and saw Dandelion’s eyes wide and joyful. That was purely a bonus. Incidental. Dandelion looked at the fire and then back at him.

“That’s amazing.” He breathed. 

Warmth crept into Geralt’s face. “It’s just a basic sign,” he mumbled. “Mages think it child’s play.”

Dandelion grinned wide. “I think it’s brilliant. You’re magic.”

Geralt shifted his weight and cast his eyes to the floor.

“Are you sure you don’t want help?” asked Dandelion. 

“No.” said Geralt, a little too quickly. “I’m fine. Thank you.” Geralt made a gentle step towards the door to usher the man out, and Dandelion quickly read his intent. He nodded and tucked the bag under his arm.

“All right. But when you tire of being broody and solitary, you know where to find us,” He said.

He turned to take his leave but said one more thing over his shoulder as he disappeared into the hall.

“I could take care of you both.” He enunciated each syllable, imbuing it with deliberate meaning. Geralt closed the door but then stood there, staring at it.

Where to find ‘us’? Take care of you both?? Was Dandelion inviting him to their room? Had Eskel sent him? 

If not, then he didn’t appreciate Dandelion pressuring Eskel to do something that wasn’t his own idea. He didn’t want Eskel’s pity fucks.

But if so, it would explain why this annoyingly beautiful man looked at Geralt like they were on the same side. In the same boat. 

Hell no.

Eskel could fuck whoever he wanted to. But Geralt wasn’t going to share Eskel with a godsdamn human.

There was a reason Geralt stuck to sorceresses, dragons, vampires, and other witchers. He paid for the sexual services of humans, sure. But that was it. They were so flimsy. Fragile. Easily hurt. Easily frightened. They came and went like fruit flies. 

His professional life was dedicated to protecting them. A relationship with one was like taking his work home with him. You couldn’t relax and just be. You had to be the other. You had to play your role.

It was nothing personal against this human specifically. Geralt had to admit the bit with the bastard alderman had impressed him. 

Dandelion may have looked green in the face when he and Eskel had hacked up the cockatrice, but the man did not flinch when staring down the rich and powerful. His cutting words were sharper than both of Geralt’s blades put together. He was witty, confident. 

What was more, he’d put his name on the line for them. Gregor would undoubtedly go back and check Dandelion’s story. Complain about him. Attempt whisper campaigns against him. But Dandelion didn’t seem worried at all. 

And he did seem entirely sincere in his concern for Geralt’s wellbeing. He wasn’t so bad, the witcher supposed.

And sure, when Dandelion had said he could ‘take care of them both’, a warm thrill had run through Geralt’s body. Dandelion was famous for his wiles for a reason. But the witcher could resist him. If Geralt could defend himself against a cockatrice, drowners, and any other monster in the woods, he could defend himself against one single seductive human.

He crossed his arms and scowled at the door. He loosed his arms with a groan. 

_Just take a bath, Geralt._ He told himself. _Relax._

Geralt bathed himself without lingering. He did not think about how Dandelion would have touched his shoulder. Or his hair. He did not imagine Eskel watching the whole scene with his amber eyes glittering. He did not. He got himself clean and wrapped a towel around his waist.

Then he plopped onto his own bed with a heave of a sigh. He felt as fresh and as relaxed as he could be in his current state. His muscles were lax. His limbs were heavy on the mattress. His skin was damp and smelled of soap.

But inside, across his chest, he still felt tight, and his mind still raced. 

Then he heard something on the other side of the wall. Murmuring. The splashes of people stepping into the bath.

Fuck.

Of course Eskel had asked for adjoining rooms. Of course their voices carried through the thin wall. 

If Geralt focused, he’d even be able to understand what they were saying, and Eskel fucking knew that. Did his brother just not care? When you lived in the same space as other witchers, you got used to things that embarrassed humans. So it was entirely possible he just didn’t give a shit. Or. Or did Eskel _want_ him to hear? 

Geralt squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block out the very idea of it.

It would have been easier to block out if he didn’t already know what it was like to be submerged in hot soapy water with Eskel. He had bathed with Eskel. Long before this _human_ came around. Dandelion wasn’t special. 

Geralt knew what it was like when Eskel reached for you, gripped your waist tight, and pulled you through water towards him. He knew what Eskel looked like, sheened with bathwater, what his fingers felt like curled around the nape of your neck, tugging your wet hair. Dandelion wasn’t the only one.

  
Geralt exhaled long and shallow through his pursed lips. He didn’t even notice his hand traveling across the expanse of his chest and down to the knot in his towel.

Now there was laughter from the next room. Splashes. Now sighs. Sighs that were drawn out a bit too long to just be a sound of relaxation. Sighs with hitches in the breath.

Like Geralt’s breath hitched when it had been far too long, and Eskel closed his mouth over his nipples. The way Geralt's hips jerked up in shocked arousal when that happened.

Geralt pulled the knot in the towel and it fell open. The fire hadn’t been burning long so the room was still cool. Goosebumps raised on his skin and his nipples pebbled. 

Then he heard the sound of Eskel’s metallic growl as he stood up in the bathwater. One pair of feet stamped to the bed. He must have been carrying Dandelion.

Eskel was strong. Even for a witcher. A few short years ago, on a balmy summer night, he’d held Geralt up with only his broad shoulders and solid biceps. He’d squeezed Geralt open and fucked up into him. 

That night came flooding back to Geralt. It was one of many, but it was memorable.

The evening had begun tediously. Geralt had been dragged to a fancy party and he’d coped with the boredom and irritation by getting half drunk. When he’d discovered Eskel was there, a wild thrill had gone through his body. It was the kind of party Geralt knew Eskel hated, so it hadn’t taken much to lure him outside. All he’d done was hold Eskel’s gaze, lick his lips, and nod towards the exit.

Eskel hadn’t said a word at first. He’d emerged from the backdoor of the hall to see Geralt leaning against the wall of the building. Eskel had looked at Geralt as though he were assessing him, then deciding exactly what he needed. He’d yanked down Geralt’s trousers and underthings and quietly turned him towards the wall. He’d oiled and plunged his fingers into Geralt, growling at him to be silent. To just take it. It had been dark and people were busy inside, but anyone could have walked by. 

Then Eskel had practically ripped Geralt’s trousers, managing to pull one of the witcher’s legs free. Then he’d lifted Geralt up to waist level. Geralt was not a small man. Not only was he large and muscular, but people generally had a healthy wariness of him. To be picked up like a feather...it affected him like nothing else. Geralt had hooked his ankles around Eskel’s lower back and clung to him. Eskel had held him there, suspended, prying him open. 

They had to be quiet, so Geralt had covered his own mouth with one hand, and ducked his head down on Eskel’s shoulder. Eskel fucked up into him mercilessly. Geralt had clasped his hand over his mouth so hard, but he’d still wailed desperately into his palm, though it was muffled. They’d huffed and slapped and Eskel had stretched and pounded him until he’d spent in Geralt’s ass as well as the ground below. 

Fuck.

The memories were awakening Geralt’s body. He realized that his cock was laying across his stomach growing hard. The roiling of his mind had found a focal point. His mind had identified a release. He wrapped his hand around his cock.

There were thumps of bodies on the mattress next door.

He heard Eskel’s low groan. 

“ _Angel,_ ” the witcher whispered.

“ _Darling_ ,” the man answered.

Eskel always called _him_ wolf. Sometimes sweet wolf. That endearment was usually whispered during early mornings in a quiet castle under blankets.

Geralt imagined _he_ was the one laying on the mattress now with Eskel above him. Eskel growling and taking his chin. Eskel kissing him hard, their teeth clashing. 

Geralt began to stroke himself, feeling himself grow harder in his own grasp. He stroked himself lazily at first, luxuriating in the slide scrape of calluses of his palm across soft skin. 

He heard Eskel whispering.

 _I’ve got you._ He said.

 _I know, my sweet witcher._ Dandelion answered.

Geralt pictured Eskel working _him_ open with his thick fingers. He was greeted with the memory of a feeling. The one only Eskel made him feel. The sensation of being spread open and utterly vulnerable, and knowing you are safe. Geralt squeezed his hand tighter around his shaft and thumbed the slit of his pliant head. He fucked up into his hand. Faster. He needed more, now. His pecs and shoulders strained and flexed with the increased desperate pace.

 _Just relax. Take this. Just like that._ He heard Eskel say through the wall.

 _Like that?_ Dandelion asked.

 _Just like that, sweetness._ Eskel answered.

Eskel groaned in what sounded like a relief. He sounded like that when he finally sank into you. Like he had found heaven. It always made Geralt feel like a wondrous thing.

He pictured Eskel sliding into him with his thick cock. It was large even by witcher standards and it made Geralt feel full to his throat when he shoved back on it. Geralt’s ears yearned to hear Eskel slapping against him calling him wolf...asking him if he liked it. 

He liked it. 

He always liked it.

The memory made Geralt even harder and more desperate. He squeezed one of his pecs hard as he stroked, then reached down to cup his balls. He rolled them in his fingers, just the way he liked. He remembered showing Eskel how he liked it.

Geralt felt so empty now. He keened in desperation. He tried to stifle it but if Eskel were paying attention, he would’ve heard it. He no longer cared. He just needed something in him. He poked the fingers of his free hand into his mouth, licking them slick. Then he rolled onto his side as he sucked them. Then, as he slid his hands up and down his cock, squeezing tighter, he brushed his hole with his slick fingers. It wasn’t oil, but his fingers didn’t have the girth of a cock, so he’d made it work. He touched his hole gingerly at first, gasping as his fingers touched the sensitive skin. Then rolled his fingertip around his entrance, pumping his cock faster with his other hand.

Eskel liked to watch him do this.

But Eskel was in the next room probably buried to the hilt in Dandelion.

Dandelion.

Fuck. Dandelion.

The one who looked at Geralt like he was fresh meat on a hook.

Geralt fucked faster into his hand and then slipped a finger into his entrance. He thrust forward into his hand, then back onto his fingers. Two now. 

As his mind cast around for the image that would send him over the edge he was surprised by the appearance of blue eyes.

Shit.

Geralt had tried to resist, but with precum beading on his cock and his ass full of his fingers, it was impossible. Dandelion was a walking, talking, godsdamn delicacy. His slim strong waist. His firm ass. His sweetness that dared you to come and get more. His reputation for providing sexual pleasures one fantasized about.

Geralt felt his orgasm begin to pool hot in his stomach. He was so close. 

He just needed. 

He needed. 

Geralt’s mind’s eye gave him what he needed. Dandelion looking down at him, holding his own cock. Dandelion pressing the tip of his cock against Geralt’s lips. Geralt feeling it slid into him, thick and delicious, while Eskel filled his ass, stealing his breath with deeper and deeper thrusts. Eskel was always so infuriatingly controlled. Right up until he wasn’t.

And it sounded like Eskel was losing it at this very moment. Dandelion’s cries floated to the rafters. Geralt was surely not the only person who heard it. Eskel would sometimes put a hand over Geralt’s mouth when he lost control. When he shouted. He knew Geralt liked that. To be controlled. Restrained. 

And Dandelion obviously wanted to cry out as loud as he wished. That didn’t surprise Geralt. Eskel was good at learning what you need and giving it to you.

“ _Fuck. Eskel. Gods. Your cock_.” Dandelion cried, his strained voice syncopated to the slapping thrusts.

Fuck.

Was the beautiful man on his back? Or his stomach? Was Eskel taking him with his legs splayed wide? Or his ass high?

Geralt decided that Dandelion’s thighs were enclosed in Eskel’s powerful hands and spread wide, Eskel fucking him hard, Dandelion’s head lolling in rythm. Geralt pictured Dandelion’s brown curls plastered to his sweating forehead, ass full of Eskel.

Geralt came. He came hard. He hunched over as the waves of pleasure strung his body tight and froze his face in need. Froze his body in need. He tried to be silent but a low guttural note of desperation dripped from him steadily along with the hot cum spurting onto his fist and stomach. 

He wanted them. Eskel and Dandelion. He wanted to cum with them filling his every hole.

He slid his fingers out and whimpered. With his other hand he stroked himself through the aftershocks and squeezed his cock until it verged on too much. Then he rolled onto his back, sated. Breath heaving.

Fuck.

He tried to push the idea back into the recesses of his mind. That would never happen. Eskel was the kindest man he knew and he would walk into a burning building for Geralt without a question. That was half the reason he’d even fucked Geralt every time he asked to begin with. It was part of the reason that a few winters ago, Geralt had told Eskel they weren’t going to be _that_ to each other anymore. Geralt had turned Eskel away for good.

Yet here Geralt lay in the afterglow of the most powerful orgasm he had in a long time. Here he lay, panting into an empty room. And he’d done it all to the images and sounds of Eskel and his new sweet thing.

Dandelion could not have heard Geralt or known what he’d just done. But if Eskel had been listening for it, he would know. 

Did he? Part of Geralt hoped not. Shame wanted to prickle at him, knowing that he'd used their sounds for his own sexual gratification. But the other part. The other part hoped. He didn’t know why. He didn’t know for what.

It was too late. He’d slammed that door in his own face, like an idiot. Dandelion was here now and Geralt would not be the less important third to a fucking human. The ‘add on’, the third wheel.

Fuck. Maybe his feelings for Eskel were a bit more complicated than he’d given them credit for. Maybe Eskel had given him so much more than he realized.

He’d just wait for the afterglow still coursing through him to subside. Then he’d go to sleep. The morning would be better. It would make more sense.

Then, through the walls of the Posada Inn, he heard a whisper. It was Dandelion.

“I love you.” He sounded snug. Squeezed tight. Blissed out.

Eskel rumbled in response. “I love you too, angel.”

There was the sound of a kiss. Then there was a pause.

“ _And. Y_ ou love Geralt?”

No.

No.

Nonononono.

Geralt shook his head furiously and grabbed the covers in both of his hands. Dandelion didn’t realize Geralt could hear him. Geralt didn’t want to hear him.

Godsdamnit had there been a beat of silence? Had Eskel not answered? Geralt panicked. 

“Of course I love Geralt.” Eskel said.

 _Yes. As brothers._ Thought Geralt.

“Yes, but,” continued Dandelion...

This was not happening. This was not fucking happening. Geralt wanted to listen. He couldn’t listen. What that would do to this entire winter trapped in Kaer Morhen if he heard the wrong thing in this moment.

“He’s special, right?” Finished Dandelion. He sounded sweet. He didn’t sound suspicious or angry.

It didn’t matter. What the fuck was he doing? Where was he going with this?

Geralt shot up out of the bed and banged on the wall in the universal sign for-- 

Shut The Hell Up.

Eskel and Dandelion fell silent.

Geralt looked desperately around the room. He grabbed fresh trousers and yanked them on. He pulled on a tunic, grunting and almost ripping it.

He was going back down to the tavern. His wounds could wait until later. Geralt burst out into the hall, his boots only half fastened. He slammed the door behind him.

He was going to do two things. First, he was going to drink a fuckton of beer.

Then he was going to request a different room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my witchersexual loves!!!
> 
> I'd be embarrassed to admit how many hours/days this took me to write/how many drafts. Adding Geralt, a witcher I love so dearly, was intimidating because I want to do him justice. Also, figuring out a dynamic for them was tough. It can go so many ways. In the end, I hope I got it right.
> 
> So poor Geralt, in this chapter he is bewildered, confused, a little panicked, and a lot horny. Dandelion has that affect on people. But if he just learns to accept their love, things will go much better.
> 
> What else....I swear to god I also did literal research on health studies of men using saliva for anal fingering. I know people get really really touchy about the use of saliva as lube but I have science on my side I promise.
> 
> Thanks for reading my friends! I'll meet you in the comments as usual.


	4. Kaer Morons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt stomped out the night before and never came back. Eskel is a little peeved about the whole thing. But maybe he can help Geralt learn to accept care and affection? 
> 
> But first some morning cuddles with his love, who is starting to get a case of nerves with Kaer Morhen looming closer.
> 
> \----
> 
> He knocked. “Geralt it’s us.”
> 
> Geralt pulled open the door. He reeked of beer and his hair was matted up on one side of his head. He still wore his trousers from the day before, but he was shirtless. His wound was still undressed. And though he squinted from an obvious headache, the raw, tentative look in his eyes was plain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience, dear hearts. I really take seriously what we're doing here! I wanted to give these characters the time and attention necessary to love and trust each other. Which is why I spent some more time, and we aren't at Kaer Morhen yet. Geralt is just stubborn and needs lots of tending to.
> 
> Also, the Eskel tummy snuggling may be the most self indulgent thing I've ever written. SNUGGLE ME ESKEL.

Eskel 

No matter what Eskel dreamed of, waking was even better. As soon as he opened his eyes, he felt Dandelion curled up naked against him on the narrow bed. He felt the comforting weight of one of Dandelion’s long legs thrown over him. He felt Dandelion’s morning erection nudging his hip. 

Eskel had never experienced what most would call luxury but this felt like the very definition of it. Dandelion was extravagantly, generously affectionate. 

The witcher allowed his eyes to linger on Dandelion’s face, admiring the curls plastered to his forehead, the thick eyelashes fanned out throwing shadows, and even the trail of saliva escaping the corner of his slack mouth. He slowly inhaled the scent of his love - honeysuckle wine. And, well, the drool. 

Watching him like this put Eskel’s spirit at ease. He indulged a memory of what it felt like seeing Dandelion for the first time in the brothel. He had felt so sure that this man could never want to touch him. This stunning, stylish, beautiful man sweeping in with the confidence of a demigod and the vulnerability of a morning bloom.

Dandelion wiped his wet cheek on Eskel’s shoulder and snorted heartily.

Eskel smiled to himself. He’d never been more happy to be wrong in his life. He didn’t think he’d been touched in two years when Dandelion took his hand and led him back to the rooms. Everything Dandelion had done to him--cradling his scarred face, closing his plump pink tinted lips over his cock, kneading his knotted back, had ignited him, set every nerve ablaze. 

And the searing flame was now a crackling steady fire. Eskel was hardly ever separated from Dandelion’s touch now. He was currently covered in him. The witcher reached with his free hand, the one not trapped under Dandelion, and ghosted his fingers along his cheekbone.

“Morning, angel.”

“G’morning, sexy,” whispered Dandelion, stirring.

Dandelion sleepily scooted down Eskel’s torso to rest his head on the witcher’s stomach.

“Mmmm. I love your tummy,” said Dandelion, eyes still squeezed closed, fingers absently patting Eskel’s stomach.

Eskel chuckled and Dandelion’s head bounced a little with the vibrations. The witcher buried his fingers in his angel’s hair and mussed it.

Dandelion planted a kiss just above Eskel’s belly button.

“You’re so snuggly.” Dandelion murmured. “Snuggly witcher.”

Eskel enjoyed being described in such soft terms. It wasn’t something that happened often. But Eskel felt himself getting used to it already. 

“Fair warning there’s going to be more to snuggle after a winter of cooking at Kaer Morhen,” Eskel said.

“Ooooo,” said Dandelion. “What an alluring prospect. Fair warning, I won’t be able to keep my hands off you. You’ll be lucky to get a moment’s rest.”

Eskel laughed again. “C’mere.” He pulled Dandelion up until he was laying on the witchers’s chest, legs sprawled on either side of him. 

Dandelion looked at him with heavy lids, and a lazy smile. The sword pendant dangled down from its permanent place on Dandelion’s neck to rest on Eskel. Eskel kissed him tenderly.

Heavy fabric covered the window, so the light in the room was still gentle and diffused, like in the shade of a tree.

“You ready to get on the road?” Asked Eskel, running his fingertips over Dandelion's hips and the gentle curve of his ass. We should reach Kaer Morhen by nightfall.”

Dandelion’s face lit up and his fingers fidgeted where they touched Eskel’s shoulders. Dandelion was really only still when he slept, and then just barely. Mentioning Kaer Morhen was like cracking the whip above a couple of horses pulling a cart. Dandelion was awake and in motion.

“I can’t believe it. It’s really happening.” He said. Wonder filled his eyes and he flicked his fringe out of his face.

“It is.” Said Eskel.

Eskel’s spirits rose seeing the joy that his home provoked in Dandelion’s eyes. However, it was followed by a slight unease. As they grew closer to the Keep, the reality of what Dandelion might face crept up on Eskel. Lambert was suspicious of Dandelion. And as for Geralt, Eskel had honestly thought it would be going better. But after last night, Eskel felt less sure. Speaking of Geralt-- 

“We’d better find Geralt so we can go.” Eskel said.

“Find him? He’s next door, isn’t he?” Dandelion scrunched his face in confusion and looked towards the shared wall.

“No. He never came back to his room. I would’ve heard him,” said Eskel.

“Even in your sleep?”

Eskel nodded. “Even in my sleep.”

Dandelion traced circles on Eskel’s shoulders and flicked his eyes down in one of his rare shy gestures.

“You two have a beautiful bond.”

“Sweetness--” Eskel rushed to assure him.

“No, no. Darling.” said Dandelion. “You misunderstand. I think your bond is a beauty to behold.”

“Oh,” said Eskel. “Yes, you seemed...overcome after the cockatrice fight. I thought it was my handsome brother.” It didn’t hurt Eskel to say. Eskel agreed too heartily with the assessment to begrudge it.

“Of course he’s handsome,” said Dandelion. “But what moved me so, more accurately, what made me cum in my trousers,” he raised his eyebrows, “was the way you moved together, like one living thing. The way you spoke to each other without making a sound. Fought as one. It’s stunning. You’ve been home for each other far longer than I’ve been alive.”

“Ah so we’re old.” Said Eskel. “Ancient and aged.” He pinched Dandelion’s ass where his hands were resting.

“Sexiest old men on the continent,” laughed Dandelion. “But I’m serious. The bond between witchers is...gods. It’s beautiful. Which is why it breaks my heart that there are so few of you left.”

“That breaks your heart?” Asked Eskel. “You’re a quarter century old. How did you even know there used to be more of us?”

Dandelion cleared his throat.

“Er. After we met. As a youth. I..well..I read some books. I was trying to find ways to seduce you--”

Eskel rolled his head back and laughed. It was unbelievable that this beautiful creature had yearned for him for a godsdamn decade.

“You did not.”

Dandelion swatted Eskel’s shoulder. The tops of his cheeks were pink and it was precious.

“Hush.” He said. “I did. Anyway. I learned there used to be more of you. Before the various sieges on Kaer Morhen. And I’m trying to share my tragic heartache about it.”

Eskel grew serious. “Tell me, love. Why does it break your heart?”

“Because,” he said. “You need each other. People treat you like you’re...alien. And your job is solitary and lonely most of the year. What would you do without each other? The thought of any of you being lonely just...it destroys me.”

“Oh love,” whispered Eskel. “You are. So. Gods. I--”

Dandelion cut him off. “And you probably thought I was going to say it breaks my heart that witchers are dying out because people need you to protect them from monsters. And they do. So maybe it makes me a bad person but I mostly care about you.”

Words escaped Eskel, so he drew Dandelion into a bear hug, squeezing him tight. 

“Dandelion,” was all he could say. “How did fortune find me after so long?”

“No.” said Dandelion. “I’m the lucky one.”

Eskel laughed heartily again. “You? Lucky? Half the continent desires you.”

“Well.” Said Dandelion. “Probably three quarters at least.”

“Exactly.” said Eskel.

“Darling. It is one thing to desire someone. And yes. Many people do. Many, many--”

“Yes,” said Eskel.

“Many-”said Dandelion.

Eskel chuckled and slowly shook his head.

“But it is one thing to want someone. It’s another thing to love them exactly as they are. Sure, people may admire my--” Dandelion swept his hands up and down his body “beauty”

“As they should,” said Eskel.

“But you saw me try to stab a man and it didn’t even faze you. I think it turned you on.”

“It kinda did,” said Eskel, raising an eyebrow and nodding.

“Plus, most people can’t handle my job.” Dandelion said. “But you, if Yana is reporting this accurately, are ‘proud of what I do for people’.”

“Ah she told you.”

“She did.”

“Well. I am.” Eskel said. “And loving a man who is so good in bed he’s paid for it, has many perks.”

“Oh yes?”

“Well, Witchers aren’t that easy to take, love. And your pretty little hole took me so nice the very first time. And you taught me how to suck you off all the way to the back of my throat. Best teacher I’ve ever had.”

“Yes, it was truly generous of me, allowing you to suck the cum out of me,” said Dandelion. He dipped his head and kissed Eskel. “I love you.”

“I love you too angel.”

  
Dandelion rolled off of Eskel and laid next to him and looked at the wood beam ceiling.

“And now I get to meet your family.”

His family. Eskel remembered that they needed to find Geralt and irritation prickled him. Dandelion worshiped Geralt and had stood up for them with the alderman, and he was still acting like a brat.

“Yes, well, after we collect the one that wandered off.” He grumbled.

“Perhaps he found someone alluring in the tavern and stayed elsewhere.”

“Yeah could be.” Said Eskel. It’s what he suspected. Despite the generally wary attitudes towards witchers, Geralt never seemed to have trouble finding someone to bed. I mean, why would he? Not with that face. Not with that everything.

“He hit our wall before he left, do you think we bothered him?” Asked Dandelion.

They must have. But Geralt had no right. Geralt was the one who had broken off that part of their relationship years ago. Also, he couldn’t have been entirely angry. Judging by the keening and cumming Eskel heard, Geralt still managed to get off despite whatever was going on in his head. But if anyone could be simultaneously horny and angry it was Geralt. And the gods forbid Geralt actually tell him how he felt or what was going on. The man was frustrating.

As annoyed as Eskel was by it, he wasn’t going to tell Dandelion what he’d heard Geralt doing. It was Geralt’s private business.

Eskel shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Well. I guess there’s one way to find out.” Dandelion said.

They dragged themselves out of the warmth of the bed and got dressed. Dandelion only had a few outfits with him but he tried them on one after the other, picking them up off the floor and throwing them down again. He made adorable growling noises and huffs as he pulled the same outfit off for the second time. The third time, Eskel intervened.

He drew close and took Dandelion’s shoulders, looking into his eyes, which were flicking from his clothes to Eskel’s face.

“You nervous? You don’t have to be, love. Just a couple of uncouth witchers in Kaer Morhen.”

Dandelion smiled wide and threw his arms around Eskel’s waist. 

“I know, darling. I know. That’s the best part.”

Eskel squeezed him back and wondered once again what he’d done to deserve this ferocious, doe eyed man who thought him some magical hero--this man who not only loved him, but loved his people. 

“But fine. I’ll just wear this.”

Dandelion was wearing a gauzy floor length green and yellow concoction, with a plunging neckline that connected at his waist and opened again in a slit that left his legs entirely bare. It accentuated his broad shoulders and slim waist, as well as his shapely furry legs.

“As much as I hate to make you put on clothes,” said Eskel, gripping Dandelion’s waist with both hands and planting kisses up his neck, “You can’t wear this.” 

“And why not,” asked Dandelion.

“Because,” Eskel explained with regret. “You‘re riding Butterscotch today, remember? And it’s going to be cold this evening. You look gorgeous, but please tell me you brought trousers and boots.”

“Fine.” Dandelion found a pair of skintight tan colored trousers. Eskel helped him pull them over his ass, taking time to run his hands over the lace of Dandelion’s underthings.

“Enjoying yourself?” asked Dandelion.

“Damn right I am,” said Eskel. He snuck his hand down the front of Dandelion’s trousers before he laced him up.  
  
“Just making sure my cock is settled nicely, are you?” 

Eskel just kissed him. He figured that was a good enough answer.

Dandelion also chose a pair of thigh high brown leather boots. Eskel kneeled in front of him to lace them up. Once he’d laced one and had started on the other, Dandelion planted one heel on Eskel’s shoulder gingerly but firmly.

“Enjoying yourself?” Eskel, looking up and seeing Dandelion gazing down at him lashes lowered.

“Damn right I am.”

Dandelion topped off the ensemble with a loose, low cut white shirt with ruffles and strings. 

The fabric of the trousers hugged his round ass and strong thighs so snugly and the shirt was definitely too light for the weather but Eskel thought he’d pushed it far enough.

“You must think I’m boring, just wearing the same red jacket and wolf medallion every day,” said Eskel as he pulled on his clothes.

“Ha.” said Dandelion. “If you only knew how many times I jacked off to the memory of that outfit. It made a big impression on a horny impressionable youth.” 

“Well that’s good then,” said Eskel, smiling proudly to himself.

\--------

After dressing and packing, they left the room, returning to the tavern to find the proprietor. Eskel guessed the man would be in the kitchen taking the morning deliveries, so they headed there first.

The proprietor was indeed there.

“Looking for the other witcher. White hair?” Eskel asked him.

The man showed them down a creaky hall on the other side of the modest inn. As they walked, Eskel’s irritation with Geralt grew. Why did he get a room all the way on the other side of the inn? Fuck, Geralt was so bloody dramatic sometimes. The proprietor pointed to a room at the end of a hall and took his leave.

Eskel stood at the door for a moment, listening. Dandelion waited next to him patiently. Eskel could feel his eagerness. Fucking Geralt.

“It’s only him in there.” Eskel said.

He knocked. “Geralt it’s us.”

Geralt pulled open the door. He reeked of beer and his hair was matted up on one side of his head. He still wore his trousers from the day before, but he was shirtless. His wound was still undressed. And though he squinted from an obvious headache, the raw, tentative look in his eyes was plain. It was a look Eskel hadn’t seen for a while. It pled with him. Geralt was exhausted, miserable, and needed him.

The irritation Eskel had been building up all morning vanished. 

Eskel put his hand on the nape of Geralt’s neck squeezing it firmly but not hard enough to cause pain. He stepped close enough to stand strong but kept his eyes tender and gentle. He pulled Geralt’s forehead to touch his own. They stood there for a moment, as Eskel listened to Geralt’s pulse and breathing soothe and slow.

Incidentally, he heard Dandelion’s speed up. His darling really did love to see them together, caring for each other. It made Eskel feel even more confident, more safe, to focus on Geralt.

He squeezed Geralt’s neck almost imperceptibly tighter, pulling a few of the strands of white hair in the process. He felt Geralt ease even more.

“You ok?” Eskel asked.

Geralt swallowed and nodded.

Eskel loosed Geralt’s neck and stepped back. He heard Dandelion release a breath he seemed to have been holding.

Geralt waited.

“Go sit on the bed.” Eskel pointed. The room was very similar to the one they’d just left. Small, with wooden walls and a narrow bed covered in a quilt. There was an equally narrow table next to the bed. Geralt turned and plopped down to sit on the edge of the bed. 

_Gods, why hadn’t he tended his wound?_ Thought Eskel. The blood was clotted and some of his hair was stuck to it. There were little flecks of red on the sheets.

“You need to take care of yourself Geralt,” he said kindly but definitively. “I sent Dandelion in here and you turned him away.”

“I know,” muttered Geralt. Eskel let his eyes roam the rest of Geralt’s torso. He was muscular but lean from being too long on the path. His hands rested on his legs.

“Angel?” said Eskel. 

“Yes?” Dandelion emerged fully into the room looking hopefully at Eskel. Geralt saw him and a crackle of lust drifted from the witcher. That was inevitable. It was impossible not to notice Dandelion’s bright expressive eyes and his strong lithe body.

Eskel took a bag from the table and held it out. “He’s ready for you to tend to him.”

Dandelion’s eyes darted to Geralt, who smiled softly and nodded. He rubbed his face and yawned wide, ending it in a grunt.

Dandelion sat next to Geralt with the medical bag. He reached for Geralt’s hair to sweep it away from the crusty wound.

“Careful.” said Eskel. “He’s---”

Geralt shivered.

“Ticklish.There.” Eskel locked eyes with Dandelion, who smiled knowingly, then returned his attention to Geralt. Eskel took a seat at a chair facing the bed.

Dandelion examined the wound and tut-tutted. “You should have let me do this yesterday.”

“I’m not known for my stellar decision making skills,” said Geralt, looking at Eskel meaningfully.

“Well.” Said Dandelion. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty then.”

Geralt laughed in a deep rolling chuckle. “Pretty hungover, bloody, and fucked up.” He said.

“Those things are not mutually exclusive.” said Dandelion as he scrunched his nose and lightly nudged the edge of the wound.

“Ow,” said Geralt.

“Oh stop being a baby,” Dandelion said, but he said it with apparent affection.

Dandelion cleaned the wound delicately, cupping Geralt’s broad shoulder with one hand, and swiping the wound in smooth gentle motions with the other. His fingers were nimble and covered in rings, and Eskel noticed that they looked lovely against Geralt’s bare freckled skin. 

When he was done he reached for a bandage. 

“It’s not deep enough to need a bandage,” said Geralt. 

Eskel opened his mouth to intervene but decided to let Dandelion learn to deal with his brother.

“Yes, well, it needs protection now that you let it go so long being crusty,” Dandelion said. “You have to take care of yourself. You’re important.”

How easily Dandelion expressed such a sweet sentiment. Eskel and his brothers showed love for one in their own ways. They even hugged one another. But to sit down and say ‘you’re important’ was its own magic. He resolved to learn to cast that kind of charm.

“What do you know about me being important? I met you yesterday.” Geralt asked. He didn’t say it with hostility, more like genuine curiosity.

Eskel tensed at Geralt’s answer, worried it would offend. But Dandelion smiled indulgently as he placed the bandage despite Geralt’s protest.

“Well, first of all, you’re a witcher.” Said Dandelion. “You save lives. Kill monsters others can’t. The world needs as many of you as possible.”

“Eh, debatable.” Geralt said. “You haven’t met any of those assholes from the School of the Cat. A few of them are pretty fuckin extraneous. ” Geralt grinned and looked proud of what he’d considered a joke. Eskel shook his head.

“Mhmmm” Dandelion said. “Also, you are loved, which makes you important. I know Eskel loves you, and that’s nothing to sneeze at.“

“He’s known for his poor judgment.” Said Geralt. His eyes twinkled as he glanced quickly at Eskel, then away. Eskel’s heart squeezed.

“No he isn’t.” said Dandelion. “He’s known for his huge cock.”

Geralt coughed. “You’re. Unusual, aren’t you Dandelion?” He said.

“I’m spectacular.” said Dandelion.

Eskel noticed Geralt didn’t grunt or argue with that.

Dandelion smoothed out the bandage. It was clean and neat. 

Geralt shook his hair back into place, and Dandelion looked at the matted side of his head with a grimace.

“I’m going to need a comb, darling.” He said to Eskel.

Eskel expected Geralt to complain at that but he didn’t. He just grunted and nodded to a comb on the side table. Dandelion grabbed it.

“Scoot down.” Dandelion said to Geralt, indicating a stool next to the bed. Eskel watched in amazement as Geralt did as he was told. 

Dandelion settled behind Geralt, tucking the witcher between his legs. Eskel licked his lips and leaned forward to watch.

Dandelion carefully picked his way through Geralt’s matted hair, humming as he went. Geralt’s neck and shoulders progressively relaxed more and more.

“Mind if I braid it?” Asked Dandelion. “Eskel don’t you think he’d look handsome with plaits?”

Eskel nodded. “I do.”

“Just don’t make me look like a milkmaid.” Grunted Geralt.

“Trust me, witcher.” Said Dandelion. “I know what I’m doing.”

Dandelion worked with his long graceful fingers. He plaited one braid with several small ones woven into it. While he worked, Geralt’s face relaxed and his eyelids dragged closed. He looked at peace. And when Dandelion was done, the effect was quite striking.

“Look at me.” Eskel said to Geralt.

Geralt turned and Eskel blew out a breath. “You should wear it like that more often, wolf.” 

Then, Dandelion leaned down and planted a kiss on Geralt’s head. Eskel saw his brother’s eyes fly open at the touch. But he didn’t move away or comment on it. 

“Ok.” Said Dandelion. “You’re all done.”

“Beautiful job, love.” Said Eskel. 

“Well, it’s not like he can be anything but handsome.” said Dandelion.

“True.” said Eskel.

Geralt snorted. “I looked like a bedraggled rat.” But he seemed pleased nonetheless, and good sight more at ease than when he’d opened the door.

Eskel clapped. “Alright. We want to be in Kaer Morhen by nightfall, so it’s time for you to pack.”

“Ooo” said Dandelion, raising his hand like a child in school.

“Yes?” asked Eskel.

“Well, you know how you made me leave all my clothes?”

“Not all your clothes.”

“Most all of my clothes?”

“Butterscotch--”

“Yes, I know the horse, weight, blah blah you needed to bring a hundred blankets--”

“I promised Yana I would spoil you and keep you warm. I’m not getting on her bad side.”

“Yes darling and you’re doing an amazing job. But I was thinking, since Geralt came from Kaer Morhen and only planned to be gone the day, he probably didn’t pack much.”

“I have room in my saddle bags,” said Geralt.

Dandelion’s face lit up joyfully.

“You want to go to the market on our way out to get more clothes?” Asked Eskel.

Dandelion nodded. “Please, my love. I can’t go to Kaer Morhen with three outfits, that’s mortifying.”

Geralt twisted around. “You’re worried about impressing us??”

“Well,” huffed Dandelion, “of course I am. Mighty immortal witchers. Magical monster slaying legends. Heroes to many. And most crucially, you are most important to the man I love.”

“Ahhh,” said Geralt waving a hand dismissively. “It’s just a bunch of dumbass witchers at Kaer Morhen.”

“That’s what I said.” said Eskel, nodding enthusiastically.

“Kaer Morons more like it,” said Geralt and looked hopefully from Eskel and Dandelion. He had a look on his face as though he were waiting for riotous laughter. 

Dandelion snort laughed and Eskel chuckled even though it was probably the hundredth time Geralt told that joke. At this point the amusing part was how pleased Geralt still was with it.

“But if it means that much to you we’ll go to the market.” Eskel said, but he knew agreeing to it was a mere formality.

As though he could tell Dandelion no. Now that thought was actually funny.

  
\-----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've joined a discord server, and have a channel for this fic (My channel is called Eskel and His Angel) in that server. So you can come talk to me there if you like! You can give feedback, ideas, whatever you like.
> 
> The server is Jaskier x Witchers. There are amazing (and extremely popular-much more than I--, seriously if you've read any witchersexual Jaskier you've read them) fic writers in there. You may join if you are over 18 and do not kink shame. Because the jaskier x witchers writers and readers are a kinky bunch, and we wouldn't have it any other way. https://discord.gg/KgF8Jt
> 
> And lastly, I want to follow my commenters back on tumblr and twitter, so if you want, you're welcome to dm me either place or drop your @'s in the comments here. I know some of you have found me on tumblr but everyone's names are different so I may not have followed you back.
> 
> Thanks loves!! And thank you @Mandalynn04 for reading this literally five times in different drafts, @greeneyedfan for being so incredibly supportive. And the Jaskier X Witchers server folks for sharing your expertise with me.


	5. To Weave You In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly Dandelion wiggling his way into Geralt's heart and Eskel being sexy and darling and perfect as always. There is banter and flirting and lust and pining.
> 
> You also meet Vesemir's love interest and find out a little of what the wolves get up to in the winters.
> 
> \-----------------
> 
> “You can call me Dandy if you’d like. My friends do.” Dandelion said gaily. He walked with a lilt as light as his accent. He held Eskel’s hand as they walked. He probably would still be holding Geralt’s hand if the witcher desired it. 
> 
> “Ok, Dandy.” said Geralt. “That man, he isn’t glaring at you. He’s glaring at the witchers in your company. You have nothing to worry about.”
> 
> Eskel, who was walking on the other side of Dandelion swinging their clasped hands ever so gently, snorted.
> 
> “Oh,” said Eskel with amusement, “He knows.”
> 
> “He knows?” asked Geralt. 
> 
> “I’m quite aware,” said Dandelion. He looked back at the merchant as though he stank of fresh cow manure.
> 
> “Then why are you keeping us close?” Asked Geralt.
> 
> Eskel huffed good naturedly. “Oh, did you think we were protecting him?”

Geralt

Geralt and Eskel walked through the cobblestone streets of Posada flanking Dandelion. The witchers were both in armor and had dual swords strapped to their backs. They strode with the quiet confidence of the century old monster hunters they were. 

Despite the bustle of the streets, people seemed to make way for them, parting like the ocean on the prow of a ship.

Now that Dandelion was no longer wearing Eskel’s clothes, now that he was in his smart hip length boots and fine trousers, one could be forgiven for thinking the witchers were on some kind of protection duty for the young viscount.

Geralt couldn’t name what that made him feel. The tangle of contradicting emotions that Dandelion provoked in him was a mass of yarn he couldn’t untangle. And the yarn was wrapped around the panic that he’d lost a part of Eskel he hadn’t appreciated when he had it.

In all fairness, none of his emotional turmoil could be rightly blamed on either of them. 

They had been kind. Dandelion’s careful attention to Geralt’s wounds, his deft fingers in the witcher’s hair, and the admiring looks both he and Eskel had cast upon Geralt, had been soothing. 

Geralt fell behind for a moment, examining a leather worker’s stall. He felt a warm hand close around his, and it took all of his quick thinking to stifle a startle response. Before he even looked up, he smelled honeysuckle wine mixed with Eskel, and his body warmed in response.

“Come on,” Dandelion said. He pulled Geralt back to rejoin the two of them.

If Geralt were willing to admit it to himself, the second time he fell behind to examine a random pot being sold by a street merchant, it was mostly to feel the sweet squeeze of Dandelion's hand again.

”Well, come on, you big sexy brute,” said Dandelion, pulling his hand. 

Geralt wasn’t used to being dragged around like a wayward child. As much as he was enjoying it, it gave the impression that Dandelion was nervous or antsy. 

Geralt looked around him and tried to see the streets of Posada through the eyes of this handsome young man. Were there threats so ominous that he really needed both witchers close?

Geralt noticed a merchant at the woodworker stall glaring after them as they walked past together. The man’s suspicious eyes followed them as closely as a dryad peers through the sights of her bow.

That was a normal experience for the witchers. 

Geralt alone drew hushed stares. But with Eskel it was always worse. People recoiled from Eskel. His scars were so prominent, his voice so metallic. And well, people were idiots.

“Dandelion,” said Geralt. 

“You can call me Dandy if you’d like. My friends do,” Dandelion said gaily. He walked with a lilt as light as his accent. He held Eskel’s hand as they walked. He probably would still be holding Geralt’s hand if the witcher desired it. 

“All right, Dandy,” said Geralt. “That man, he isn’t glaring at you. He’s glaring at the witchers in your company. You have nothing to worry about.”

Eskel, who was walking on the other side of Dandelion swinging their clasped hands ever so gently, snorted.

“Oh,” said Eskel with amusement, “he knows.”

“He knows?” asked Geralt. 

“I’m quite aware,” said Dandelion. He looked back at the merchant as though he stank of fresh cow manure.

“Then why are you keeping us close?” asked Geralt.

Eskel huffed good naturedly. “Oh, did you think _we_ were protecting _him_?”

Geralt looked back at Dandelion, puzzled.

“None of these fuckers are going to trouble you two when I’m around,” said Dandelion heatedly. He puffed out his chest slightly, determination ensconced in his features.

Ah.

Just then, a man passing in the street physically recoiled from Eskel. 

“Oi, asshole,” exclaimed Dandelion in the man’s direction. “What are you lookin at?”

Geralt chuckled at the speed with which the man averted his eyes and quickened his pace.

Eskel placed his body between the man and Dandelion, so when Dandelion lunged, he slapped directly into Eskel’s broad chest with an ‘ooof’.

Geralt stopped too, so the three of them were practically blocking the street. Townsfolk skirted around them.

“Love, leave the man alone,” Eskel said, shoulders curled forward to lean close to Dandelion.

“But he—” protested Dandelion.

“What did I tell you?” asked Eskel patiently.

“But he—“ Dandelion tried again.

“Angel,” said Eskel, still patiently, but slightly more decisively.

The irony of Dandelion being called an angel in that moment, when he was practically frothing at the mouth, did not escape Geralt. But looking at Eskel’s eyes, adoringly cast to Dandelion’s, he could see there was no irony there. Just affection. So Geralt stifled his smile.

“I simply intend to discuss the matter with him!” said Dandelion. Though the sharp rise of his voice contradicted his words.

Geralt had been right the first time. The two witchers _were_ on protection detail. They were just protecting the townsfolk from Dandelion.

Where had Eskel found this man? 

Eskel was still reasoning with Dandelion, who was still pressed up against the witcher.

“I’ll _do_ it,” Eskel said, leveling a gaze to Dandelion. His voice meant business but his eyes were dancing with amusement. He ran his fingers down one of Dandelion’s sleeves.

Dandelion gasped as though his entire bloodline had been grievously offended. “You promised you wouldn’t. How very dare—”

Geralt, tired of not knowing what was going on, interjected.

“Not to interrupt your lovers’ quarrel here but what are you threatening the man with, Eskel?”

Eskel smothered a smile by biting a corner of his own mouth and turned to Geralt, wrapping one arm around Dandelion as he did. 

“I told him that if he kept starting fights to defend my honor, I’m having Triss do that spell on me that sorceresses do to be more beautiful.”

“Ohhhh,” said Geralt, looking at Dandelion’s outraged face and whistling low. “I don’t know why you never thought of it before. Maybe you should.”

Dandelion practically yelped and Eskel swept him up in a kiss. Geralt laughed. He couldn’t help himself.

Geralt was usually not a fan of public affection and yesterday their easy open affection infuriated him. Today he could admit it had made him feel excluded. But now...he didn’t feel so excluded. He didn’t even step away to give them their privacy. After all, they didn’t seem to want it.

It was a brief enough kiss anyway, but Geralt noticed the way Dandelion whimpered into it. He watched Eskel pull Dandelion in with a firm yank of the hips. By the time Eskel released Dandelion, Geralt felt his own body responding eagerly. 

He inhaled and looked around the street. Eskel would be able to scent his arousal so he tried to lessen it.

“Promise me you’ll leave him alone,” Eskel said to Dandelion.

“Fine but stop threatening to—“

“Deal,” said Eskel.

“Let’s go see Bedelia,” said Geralt briskly. “She has fine clothing and your angel won’t be tempted to —” he chuckled, “—fight her for our honor.”

Eskel nodded. “Yes, Bedelia. Good choice. She’s a friend.”

Dandelion drew himself up with a huff and straightened his shirt.

_What an unusual creature_ , thought Geralt. 

——

“Well, hello witchers,” Bedelia boomed as she made her way through the tables and racks of goods. “And friend.” She nodded at Dandelion with a knowing smile.

She was a pretty, plump woman with big brown eyes and salt and pepper hair pulled back into a bun. Her family had owned this shop for at least four generations. It had been added to and expanded over the years. Geralt had known her father when he was running things and it was just a small space.

Bedelia had been in charge for a good thirty years now, and she was savvy and practical. 

Eskel wrapped her in a bear hug. Her face relaxed and she smiled wide over his shoulder. People looked like that when Eskel hugged them. Hell, _Geralt_ looked like that when Eskel hugged him.

Geralt hugged her too. She was soft and she smelled of beeswax and paper.

“I love the braid, Geralt,” said Bedelia. He felt himself grinning proudly.

“This is Dandelion,” said Eskel, gesturing at him in that way he did, as though he were introducing the King of Cintra.

“Bedelia,” she said to Dandelion, nodding her head.

Dandelion bowed low and kissed her hand the same way he would if she were a princess at court. “At your service.” She flushed and smiled, flitting her eyes between the witchers as though to say _oh my, who is this?_

Dandelion surveyed the store. “I see, lovely lady, that you have impeccable taste both in friends, and in wares.”

Bedelia grinned and a dimple appeared on one cheek.

“Well, thank you young man.” She turned to Eskel. “Eskel, Vesemir said you’d be bringing a gentleman friend this year. What a charmer he is. Didn’t think I’d get to meet him though.”

“Vesemir came through?” asked Geralt.

Bedelia smiled a private smile. “Why yes, your handsome Vesemir came for a visit. Took care of some rats for me. Tell him he’d better return the moment the snow melts this spring so I can thank him properly.”

Geralt nodded and looked around the store awkwardly.

“Yes, well,” said Eskel, smiling as he looked at his feet.

“Indeed,” intoned Dandelion with relish, raising his eyebrows. “Oo, I like you, Bedelia.” 

“Likewise my dear.” She winked. “And what brings you through town, boys?” she asked, arranging her skirts.

“A contract,” Eskel said. “ And my love needs some clothes. A cloak or coat if you have it.” 

He looked at Dandelion who nodded his assent. 

“I’ve got just the thing,” she said.

Eskel followed Bedelia to help her find some appropriate cloaks. Geralt got the feeling Eskel didn’t trust Dandelion to find clothing warm enough for the trail. But Eskel looked at Geralt before he left.

“Take care of him if he needs anything.” He pointed at Dandelion, who was already browsing the shelves. And he disappeared behind racks of clothes.

Geralt mutely nodded.

The witcher was extremely aware of Dandelion standing next to him as he flipped through folded clothing. The man _would_ need a cloak. That shirt was practically gossamer. Geralt could see the slope of his torso tapering in from his broad shoulders to his slim waist. 

Dandelion twirled around with a garment in his hands. Geralt swiftly jerked his eyes up to the man’s face.

Dandelion held a fine, cream colored bodice with thin natural cords hanging from it. He wrapped it around his middle and held it together.

  
“What do you think?” he asked, eager hazel blue eyes searching Geralt’s out. Geralt was glad no one was around to scent the lust that must be sparking from him.

“It’s. Nice,” he said. It made the white in Dandelion’s shirt stand out starkly and also made it bunch up so that it fell away from his chest. Geralt was treated to an eyeful of thick chest hair and two pink nipples. His cock twitched.

“Here, I’ll hold it, you lace it,” said Dandelion.

“Hmmmmm,” said Geralt.

“See, I don’t know what that means, witcher,” said Dandelion. “Our darling Eskel is not here to translate. So please illuminate the matter.”

Geralt declined to translate but he did step forward to take two cords in his hands. His heart beat faster, and so did Dandelion’s. The cords were soft and thin and one fell from his fingers.

“I don’t know if I can--”

“You can,” said Dandelion. “You lace up your shoes don’t you. And your tunics?”

Geralt took the laces up again carefully and soon got the hang of tightening each criss cross pattern. He looked down at his hands as they worked, but the scent of the honeysuckle wine so close was distracting.

Jaskier’s body was open and relaxed. His shoulders were pushed back and his chest leaned forward. Geralt could picture so easily tugging on these strings and having Dandelion pressed hot against him.

Fuck.

Geralt thought if he spoke and distracted himself it would help. He didn’t want to have an obscene erection when the poor shopkeeper came back. He searched his mind for topics. And of course his mind fell to Eskel. To the conversation they’d had on the way here.

“You know he wouldn’t do it,” Geralt said, almost in a whisper, eyes still watching his hands tighten the laces.

“Who wouldn’t do what?” asked Dandelion. He squeezed his sides so the garment lay closed as Geralt worked.

“He wouldn’t change them. The scars,” he said.

Dandelion was quiet for a moment.

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because they are her mark. His child of surprise.” Geralt still whispered. Still looked at his hands.

He felt Dandelion still. 

“That’s how he--”

Geralt shook his head.

“Not now,” he said. He remembered the night it happened and a lump rose in his throat. Sometimes flashes of it still visited him. 

He felt a steady hand on his shoulder and he looked up.

  
Dandelion had released the bodice and was cupping Geralt’s shoulder with a kind look in his eyes.

“You were there for him. Of course you were.” Dandelion’s eyes honed in on his tenderest places.

Geralt nodded. 

Dandelion reached up and smoothed back a loose hair that had fallen from Geralt’s braid. Goosebumps raised on Geralt’s neck.

“You’re part of him. He’s fortunate to have you.”

Geralt shook his head but didn’t say anything. He didn’t feel that Eskel was so fortunate.

Dandelion caught his gaze again and seemed to read his mind. “Yes he is. And it’s not too late.”

That promise hung in the air tenderly but dissipated just as quickly when Eskel and Bedelia hustled back to the counter closeby. Geralt cleared his throat and let go of the bodice.

Dandelion still watched him.

“Here are some warm ones for you,” called Eskel. 

Both Geralt and Dandelion rejoined them at the table.*

“These are all hooded. You’ll need a hood in case you get caught out in the weather,” Bedelia said.

Geralt took a deep breath and scanned the garments. He focused on them to bring himself back to task.

“ _Hmmmmmm_ ,” he said. Maybe he should get a new cloak too while they had money in their pockets. He didn’t want to spend his money, but his cloak was ripped again. If he had to darn that thing one more fucking time...

“Alright,” said Dandelion. He spun around to face Geralt. “What did that one mean?”

Geralt blinked. “What?”

Dandelion looked carefully at Geralt’s face as though reading him. He touched one finger to his own lips and his lashes fluttered as he blinked in thought. “That _hmmm_. Let me guess. I want to get the hang of this. Darling,” he waved Eskel over.

Now both Dandelion and Eskel were looking at Geralt carefully.

“What?” Geralt asked, feeling bewildered.

“What did that one mean?” asked Dandelion. “Wait no, don't tell me.” He held up his finger.

“What one?” asked Geralt.

“Oh yeah,” said Eskel. “Dandelion told me he wants to learn to speak Geralt.” He shrugged. “ I told him I’d help.”

“Speak---” sputtered Geralt.

Dandelion tilted his head. “That _hmmm_. Did it mean something like...‘these wares will do’?” and looked at Eskel for approval.

“I’m _right here,”_ Geralt said.

Eskel wiggled his fingers back and forth in the universal sign for ‘kinda’.

“Oh, this is very funny,” said Geralt. He planted his hands on his hips.

“Ok ok, let me try again,” said Dandelion. “It meant...‘which of these cloaks would the annoying, but extremely sexy Dandelion like’?”

“No,” said Eskel, shaking his head. “You’re getting further away.”

“Damnit,” said Dandelion. He clenched his fists dramatically.

“But he does think you’re sexy,” added Eskel as if an afterthought. Dandelion’s face lit up.

“You can...stop this now,” said Geralt. He felt the tips of his ears warm. He crossed his arms.

“Good. Sensible witcher. But I give up,” said Dandelion. “Tell me what that one meant.” He touched Eskel’s arm as he asked, the question clearly not meant for Geralt.

“Again, I’m _right here_ ,” said Geralt.

“It meant, ‘maybe I want a cloak too’,” said Eskel. 

Dandelion slapped his hands in disappointment. “Damn it. I will one day succeed.”

“I believe in you,” said Eskel. He squeezed Dandelion’s shoulder and winked at him.

Dandelion spun back around to face the assortment of cloaks.

Eskel turned to Geralt. “You don’t need another.”

Geralt opened his mouth but Eskel continued. “I know, the black one’s ripped. Just give it to me when we get home, I’ll fix it for you.”

He nodded.

Dandelion gasped.

He had completely abandoned the pile of cloaks and had dashed to a table to the right. He dug under the pile and pulled out a green cloak.

“Oh Bedelia, you genius, this is the one.”

Geralt saw the cloak Dandelion clutched and was flooded with embarrassment and pride. It was lovely but uncomfortable at the same time. Why couldn’t Dandelion provoke one fucking emotion from him at a time. Orderly. Single. Fucking emotions.

Bedelia wandered back over from where she’d been straightening a stack of scarves. Her face broke into a grin.

“Nice choice,” said Bedelia.

“Yes, nice choice,” said Eskel. “My love has the best taste.” His eyes twinkled.

“You see what’s special about this one?” said Dandelion, waving it in Eskel’s face. “First and foremost, the color.”

Geralt’s heart quickened. Dandelion kept on.

“You don’t just get this color by tossing a few berries into the pot. Someone who really understands color, who feels it in their bones made this dye. The lushness of the green, it makes you feel as though you’re in Brokilon itself and you’ve just drunk the Waters of Oblivion and forgotten all of your cares.”

“And what else?” asked Eskel, clearly enjoying himself.  
  


“Well, the weaving,” said Dandelion excitedly. He thrummed his fingers across a square of the fabric. “It is so strong and immaculate. Someone who’s done this for ages, and I mean ages, wove this. Probably some ancient wonderful village woman who learned from her parents who learned from their parents....”

“No hood on that one,” said Bedelia. “That’s why I didn’t bring it to you.”

“Oh, I don’t care, I’ll sew one on or wear a hat. This one is special. I need it,” said Dandelion fervently.

“It _is_ special,” said Bedelia. She took the cloak, let it drop open, and swung it over Dandelion’s shoulders. He looked stunning. His blue eyes glimmered with green flecks now.

“Let your gentlemen tell you why,” Bedelia said. She pointed at Geralt, and he reflexively stepped to the side and looked elsewhere.

Bedelia flipped Dandelion by the shoulders to face the nearest mirror. His face lit up. 

  
When the witchers just shifted and looked around the store, Bedelia cackled to herself.

“Fine. I’ll do it. We get this fabric from Kaer Morhen. The boys from the school of the wolf made this.”

Dandelion’s jaw dropped and he spun on them. He looked rapturous.

“And here I thought I knew everything about Kaer Morhen,” he cried. He pulled the cloak around himself and spun in a circle. He clutched it to himself and his eyes shone at Eskel.

“Don’t look at me,” said Eskel. “We all do parts of the process together. Lambert and me shave the sheep, and clean and brush the wool. Vesemir does the final weaving. And Geralt does the dye.”

Dandelion dashed to Geralt and held a corner of the cloak up to the light.

“How do you get so many different tones? This is tremendous, you’re a true artist!”

Geralt blushed furiously under the glare of Dandelion's adoring expression.

“It’s just...I do what Vesemir taught me to do,” he demurred. “We have to make the old keep as profitable as possible. It’s expensive as shit maintaining it. And we have all these goats and sheep.”

“Don’t listen to him,” said Eskel, beaming. “Vesemir taught him the basics, but he’s gone far beyond what he was taught. He’s an artist, I keep telling him.”

Dandelion softly rubbed his fingers over the garment, eyes shining.

“The importance of good craftsmanship cannot be overstated. And this is artistry.”

Geralt didn’t know what else to do so he smiled shyly.

“It’s all about the layering. You dye it different colors at different stages. Most people just use one flower or herb and call it a day,” he said. 

“Dandy just used spinach,” said Eskel.

Geralt looked horrified.

“That was for my body!!” protested Dandelion. “I would never do that to a garment.”

“You make your own clothes?” asked Geralt. “You dyed your body green?”

Dandelion huffed. “Obviously.”

“He was trying to seduce a nymph,” said Eskel.

Geralt nodded. Of course this ridiculous man thought dyeing himself green would help him seduce a nymph.

“I’ve made my own clothes. You remember, Eskel? We were shearing sheep the day I met you? It’s how Lety was able to wander off.”

“I do remember,” said Eskel.

“We didn’t have much for a while, after my parents passed. And do you think I was just going to put on any old thing? Hardly. This...” he swept his hands up and down his body, “deserves solid design and impeccable tailoring, damn it.”

Geralt smiled. “Fair enough.”

Eskel turned to Bedelia. “We’ll take it.”

“Very good,” she said. “I’ll sell it back to you at cost. You sold it to me after all.”

“You’re very kind,” Eskel said.

“I’ll pay,” said Dandelion, waving them away. “You two go get the horses, yes?”

\----

Geralt and Eskel pulled the horses up to the shop. Eskel had tipped the stable boy and asked him to braid fresh flowers into the mane of Dandelion’s steed. He said the previous ones were wilted.

“You spoil him rotten,” said Geralt. Inspecting the braid work from atop Roach. 

“Can you blame me?” asked Eskel, shrugging, looking like the smitten man he was.

No. He really couldn’t. 

“Hmmmm,” he said.

“Yeahhhh, that’s what I thought,” said Eskel. He sounded smug and teasing.

They waited some time before Dandelion burst out of the shop resplendent in his green cloak, white shirt, tan pants, and thigh high boots.

Eskel whistled. “Looking fine, angel.”

Dandelion winked at Eskel and handed the packages to Geralt for his saddlebags. As he did, his cloak fell back and Geralt noticed the absence of the bodice.

“You didn’t get the...dainty thing you tried on?” Geralt asked.

“Why would I buy ready made clothes when I’m in the presence of true artists. You’ll make the cloth, I’ll sew my clothes. I’ll be the envy of Sodden when I get home. I’ll swan around and everyone else will burn with envy.” Dandelion flipped his hair. “More envy.”

As Dandelion mounted his horse, Geralt peeked into the bag. Inside were two fine clay bowls. Both were glazed. One was dyed black and had a ‘G’ etched on the front. The other was red and had an ‘E’ etched on the front.

He looked at Dandelion. 

“That’s to mix your herbs for the dye. They also have notches so you can put yarn in and use it to knit.”

Geralt smiled and tucked them into his saddlebags. 

“Now,” said Dandelion, “let’s go, witchers. My lifelong dreams await.”

\--------

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my darlings!!! This took a long time because unfortunately I can be extremely neurotic about my fics as you know. I can sit on a chapter for weeks, worried its not good enough to post. SO as always thank you to my betas @mandalynn04 and @greeneyedfan for helping talk me down.
> 
> I was worried at first that not enough 'happened' in this chapter. I know I'm taking my time getting them to Kaer Morhen. But I really want to take some time integrating Geralt into this dynamic. I want it to be believable and for each of them to be distinct and lovable in their own way. I also want it to remain extremely clear that Eskel is not hurt by the thought of Geralt getting closer to them. Because let's be honest I would die for Eskel.
> 
> Oh, the yarn spinning/wool weaving idea came from a tumblr post by Anarchycox. https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/anarchycox/619030569661104128
> 
> Anyway I hope you enjoyed the increasingly warm and affectionate teasing and banter between these three. Let me know what you thought in the comments my lovelies!! My Jaskel readers are the most loyal bunch and I'm always so happy to see your names in the comments section. xoxo
> 
> ETA: if you are reading this note, the chapter has now been edited by @LovelyRita1967. She is also on AO3 and writes delightful romcom type fics with lots of banter, flirting, and fluff. THANK YOU DARLING.


	6. Infinite Resource

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt, Eskel, and Dandelion take the last leg of the journey to Kaer Morhen. Seeing Kaer Morhen for the first time fills Dandelion's heart with wonder. But what he finds in the moat surprises him. Also, Eskel and Dandelion discuss Geralt.
> 
> \--------------
> 
> It wasn’t until they came to a stop and Eskel shouted back, pointing, that Dandelion’s gaze materialized and his mind interpreted what he was seeing.
> 
> Kaer Morhen.
> 
> Caer a'Muirehen
> 
> Keep of the Elder Sea
> 
> When he knew what he was looking at, the pieces of it suddenly sharpened. The outer and inner walls. The balconies and parapets. 
> 
> It was like seeing a mystical place. A legend. A secret, only unlocked for the magical and mutated. And it was being opened for him. Sex worker of Sodden, Viscount of Vice, and now, Eskel’s angel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning, discussion of grief, loss, and the bones of the witchers in the moat outside of Kaer Morhen.
> 
> There's also a little something for the readers who were worried about Dandelion being cold. XD I love y'all.
> 
> Also, the inspiration for this chapter name (and the line where Dandelion uses it) was courtesy of lovely reader and fic writer [Wrenalynn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrenalynn/pseuds/Wrenalynn).  
> And copy edits were made by [LovelyRita1967](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyRita1967/pseuds/LovelyRita1967) who has wonderful work on ao3 you should all definitely check out.

Dandelion

Dandelion loved to attend bardic competitions. He was reminded of them now, riding the trail behind Geralt and Eskel.

He’d seen bards jump on stage with the festival band, never having played with them. They would wait a few cords, eyes cast to the ceiling, feeling the rhythm and pace of the band. Then they would jump in with their voices, usually triumphantly, though sometimes it took a few bars to get the tempo and pitch correct.

The band of brothers riding in front of him had been playing together for almost a hundred years. And he was the warbling newcomer. 

And every thudding step the three horses took up the mountain road brought them closer to Kaer Morhen where he would be even more than a newcomer. He would be an oddity. Hopefully he wouldn’t be seen as an intruder.

Figuring out how to interact with Geralt, and with Eskel when he was with Geralt, had been a bit of a challenge, but he’d just followed Eskel’s lead. That strategy had seemed to be working well enough. 

Eskel had told him to tend to Geralt’s wounds so he had. Eskel had directed Geralt to take care of Dandelion at the shop, so Dandelion had found something for Geralt to do. He’d delighted in it, in fact. Watching the two of them together was wonderful. They shared gestures, speech patterns, and seemed to communicate without words. He felt honored to be a welcome spectator.

But soon they would be in Kaer Morhen with the rest of the wolves. It felt like a chasm of the unknown. Dandelion stood on the edge of it, hoping for the best.

However, the uncertainty didn’t taint the thrill for him. 

“So, when you said your lifelong dream awaited,” asked Geralt, “what dream was that?” 

The witcher turned his head so that his voice travelled back to Dandelion. He rode on his brown mare, and the muscles of his back tensed and bunched in response to the jostling of the rocky road.

“Oh, you know,” Dandelion shouted ahead. “Just a bit of hyperbole. I’m excited is all.”

Dandelion still felt vulnerable exposing how much this actually meant to him. 

What could he say? _I’ve been studying you and Kaer Morhen for ten years? That meeting Eskel was one of three moments that changed my life forever?_

Because Dandelion had counted them. 

There were three events that he could point to to say... _and after that, nothing was the same. After that, I felt like I was living in a new life, for better or for worse_.

The first had been when his parents and brother-in-law Lucas had died. That one had obviously been _for wors_ e. Dandelion (Julian then) was orphaned within the space of a week. His sister Sarah had been orphaned _and_ made a widow. 

Sarah had been a giddy newlywed with apple cheeks, a doting young wife with her entire life planned out. After having her family and her future ripped from her, she became a shadow of her former self. She didn’t eat, she didn’t sleep. She was practically a wraith.

And they had lost almost everything material. They’d kept their titles but that was about it. Their hopeful, full life turned bleak and lonely. They moved out to the small farm that used to be occupied by their workers. They ate and drank and worked in silence, just the two of them. Sometimes an aunt or a cousin would come around to visit. They would sit on the porch and make stilted, polite conversation drenched in grief and exhaustion.

The second event that had changed everything was the day Sarah found out she was pregnant. She and her Lucas had been trying to conceive before he fell ill. But she didn’t know that their efforts had taken root until after he was gone.

There is nothing like the bright beam of new life to cut through the despair of loss. They became determined to survive. When Lety was born, Julian took pride in stepping into the role of a father figure for the baby, even at his young age. It meant he was needed. They survived on every gurgle, every gummy grin, every clasp of grey eyed Lety’s chubby fingers. She gave them the love they needed to get up each morning and greet her with kisses.

The third day that changed Dandelion’s life forever was the day he met Eskel. That was the day they almost lost the only thing that had delivered them from total despair. Their little Lety.

Some people think that healing from grief is a linear process. It isn’t. You can live your life in grief for ages. You can walk on bloody eggshells around its remains, edging around the ragged and painful bits forever. You can avoid anything that reminds you of what you used to have. You can survive by cradling your injured limbs and keeping them from hitting doorways. You can survive without healing. Without turning your face to the world once again.

That was what Sarah and young Julian were doing, the day Lety wandered off into the path of the basilisk. They were caring for each other, but shutting out the rest of the world that had wounded them. Shutting out their own grief. 

If Lety had died that day, Dandelion couldn’t honestly claim that he would be here today. At minimum, he would not be in the state he was in, healthy and passionate about living. He was almost certain Sarah wouldn’t be here at all. 

Almost losing Lety had been a shock to the system. Those terrifying moments where Julian tore through the woods screaming for her still lived in a corner of his soul. They would forever. Those terrifying moments where Sarah waited, growing more frantic, changed her too. It had reminded both of them that there was still life left to be fought for. It transformed them, and thus their lives.

They both manifested this change in different ways. They both would have described it using different words. But this was essentially what both of them understood that day.

It was time to set aside the despair for what they had lost. It was time to fight for what they still had.

They had found the strength to fight again, thanks to Eskel.

It was fitting that the first fight Julian ever got into was over Eskel.

Some kid in town ran up to him the day after Eskel rescued Lety, and asked if it was true - if they were so poor that the witcher who had saved Lety had ravaged Sarah for compensation.

The crack when Julian’s knuckles hit the kid’s jaw had been satisfying. He had expected Sarah to chide him when he came home bruised with the kid’s mother dragging him by the ear. But his sister talked the woman down and when they were once again alone, had smiled at him and pinched his cheek. He protested as always. He was too grown up to have his cheek pinched. But he listened to her words.

“What people believe about us matters,” she had said. “People give you what they believe you will accept. And now people believe that we will defend each other, and our friends.”

She wasn’t the same Sarah as before all of their losses, exactly. But she wasn't the one who grimly survived. She had new vigor. She started formulating a plan for how to get back their property and position. It was for Lety, she said. She would lay the groundwork with powerful nobles and once Julian was of age and had legal standing, they would be unstoppable.

For the first time since losing them, they talked about their parents at meals, remembering the pie their mother had cooked, or the toys their father had carved for them. Julian even overheard Sarah telling stories about Lucas to Lety. “You get your ridiculous sense of humor from your father. Once we were watching a play, and —”

And Julian, for his part, had found new life as well. The only two lives he had lived until then was first his childhood in the safe embrace of his parents. Then he had known a lonely life when the world was cruel and frightening.

But meeting Eskel had planted a seed. He still had life to fight for. And meeting Eskel had given him his own passion. Something that he could disappear into, a haven.

At first, when Julian began his study of witchers, he was truly only looking for things like mating rituals, anatomy studies (sketches preferably) and ways to seduce the man who had saved Lety. At fifteen years old, he very much thought with his cock. And Eskel was spectacular. 

But as he studied, he became fascinated by the history and stories of all witchers. He read about the different schools and their respective training techniques. He read about decoctions and weaponry. He was captivated by the ancient keep at Kaer Morhen and its secrets. 

Sarah didn’t chide him for his fixation. In fact she found ways to add to his collection of books and relics that they found at Oxenfurt and Aretuza estate sales. She would do his chores when he rode to Oxenfurt for public lectures. Even though she didn’t share his passions, (she was much more interested in palace intrigue and regaining their property), she let him ramble on at dinner and at bedtime. She let him tell Lety bedtime stories about the latest tales of witcher contracts and monster slaying. 

She was just happy to see her younger brother excited about anything again.

One of the books she sold her combs to afford, _Ancient Sea Keeps_ , was packed away in his saddle bags. On its way to Kaer Morhen.

He had sent her a letter before he left, so she would know by now that he was on his way.

He imagined what she would say when she read it.

She would say, _you scoundrel, you’ve done it_.

Dandelion looked around at the towering pines and inhaled the crisp mountain air. He listened to the occasional chatter of the two witchers riding in front of him. Their voices drifted back to him, entwined with the other sounds of the mountains, with birds and rustling branches.

At the moment they were arguing over who would enter the cockatrice into their journal.

“That was my kill. I had it,” said Eskel, in the clanging rough voice that was already beginning to sound like home.

“Ahhhhhh,” grunted Geralt in his deep purr, “you had nothing. If I hadn’t come into the clearing you’d still be fighting it, wishing for me to rescue you.” Geralt clutched his chest and delivered an uncanny impersonation of Eskel. “Where is the white wolf? If only he were here.”

Eskel snorted derisively.

“You wish,” he laughed. “I let you kill it to help build your confidence. If anything, you slowed me down.”

Dandelion smiled to himself and absently patted Butterscotch, who was a real trooper on this trail. Come to think of it, so was he. His riding had come so far in a matter of days, by necessity.

As they ventured deeper into the mountains, the shadows grew longer. Dandelion finally began to feel the cold. He knew the witchers were probably still fine, so he tried to forebear.

But when Eskel called for a break and they slid from their horses, the witcher noticed him rubbing his hands together.

Eskel came over to him and slipped an arm around his waist.

“You good?” Eskel asked, and he leaned his forehead against his. The feel of his body so close, comforted every part of Dandelion by its mere presence. To be near Eskel meant love. It meant protection.

Dandelion shivered and Eskel pulled him tight against his barrel chest. The witcher rubbed his back and arms briskly and kissed his temple.

“C’mon,” he said, and he led Dandelion over to Scorpion. He rummaged in his bags and pulled out a few rolled up garments. 

“That isn’t enough for the trail up. You’re going to borrow my things,” he said. “Take off the cloak.”

Dandelion slipped off the cloak and laid it carefully over Scorpion.

Eskel first held out a thick knit sweater, and Dandelion pulled it on.

Geralt walked over.

“Everything good?”

Eskel nodded.

“Can’t have him freeze on his way up.”

Dandelion pulled down the sweater. It looked rather dashing actually. 

Eskel leaned in for a kiss. Dandelion melted against his warm lips.

When he pulled away, Geralt was there, holding out a pair of gloves. Dandelion shot his sweetest smile at him. He even batted his lashes for good measure.

“Thank you, darling,” and he pulled them on.

“Can’t have our first human visitor in years say we weren’t good hosts,” Geralt grunted.

Then Eskel settled the cloak over his shoulders and tied it again. And lastly, he slipped a soft hat onto Dandelion’s head and pulled it down over his ears.

“Ooo, cashmere?” asked Dandelion, reaching up to run his fingers over it.

“Made it from lil bleater’s wool,” he said. Eskel kissed Dandelion’s nose, then his lips.

Dandelion preened inwardly, but outwardly he looked puffed and layered. If he fell over, he could probably be rolled up the mountain.

“I think we’d better take the rest on foot,” said Eskel, looking around.

Dandelion looked over the trail. It seemed wide enough to continue on horseback.

Eskel gestured towards a thinning area in the branches to their left. When they neared, Dandelion realized it was the trail. Witcher’s Trail. They had arrived. He would have never seen it if Eskel hadn’t pointed it out.

He had poured over the maps, he knew the basic route. But he also knew that the witcher trail was enigmatic and didn’t show itself to non witchers or non magical humans. He knew he would only find it, and find his way to the end of it with the guidance of Eskel and Geralt.

Even after they squeezed through the branches, this offshoot trail seemed to blend into the surroundings. Dandelion was sure he would have been lost in moments without the witchers there to guide him. They crossed creeks where Dandelion would have lost the trail, but they picked it up instinctively without hesitation, and climbed.

They climbed and climbed. Dandelion’s ears tingled with the cold, and his hands gripping Buttercup’s reins became stiff and sore despite the gloves.

Wind whipped around them, and sometimes branches twacked his cloak as he passed. The sound of his own breath grew louder in his ears. He made sure to keep Scorpion and Eskel in his sights at all times.

He kept his head up and strained to see all around him. He walked a trail few non magical humans ever got to see. This was special. He would imprint every sensation into his memory banks. 

He would remember the green of the pine, the fresh smoke smell. This was the scent he always sensed on Eskel. He was on an adventure, but Eskel was returning home. He would see Eskel at home, which meant he would truly know him, as much as a person can know another.

Hours past, and the sun lowered in the sky. But Dandelion wasn’t weary. He was exhausted, but not weary. He pulled the cloak tight. His legs burned. But he rejoiced, and strained to see the first glimpse of that ancient, legendary keep he’d dreamt of for so long.

When Kaer Morhen jutted out before him above the peaks of the trees, he didn’t even see it at first. The gray stones of the keep practically blended into the mountain, and gray mist hung around its turrets.

It wasn’t until they came to a stop and Eskel shouted back, pointing, that Dandelion’s gaze materialized and his mind interpreted what he was seeing.

Kaer Morhen.

Caer a'Muirehen

Keep of the Elder Sea

When he knew what he was looking at, the pieces of it suddenly sharpened. The outer and inner walls. The balconies and parapets. 

It was like seeing a mystical place. A legend. A secret, only unlocked for the magical and mutated. And it was being opened for him. Sex worker of Sodden, Viscount of Vice, and now, Eskel’s angel.

He gazed in wonder. It was only after his throat began to feel sore that he realized his jaw had dropped and he’d been breathing the cold air through his mouth.

He’d stopped momentarily and Eskel had waited patiently. He licked his chapped dry lips and mouthed the word,

“Wow!”

Eskel smiled proudly.

The book Dandelion had stuffed in his bags to keep his drawing for Eskel safe had been his main source of information about the old castle. He wasn’t sure why he’d brought it with him. He was trying to keep his witcher fixation subtle after all. But he hadn’t been able to resist. And of course sketches couldn’t do the real, actual thing justice.

The sketches in the book were from its infancy, when it was shiny and new. Before the attacks. The majestic, crumbling architecture was everything he had imagined and more.

After allowing him to gape for a few moments, Eskel urged them on.

The air grew thinner, and his head lightened. Eskel began to stop often to check on him and offer him water. Buttercup was showing remarkable stoicism. So were Roach and Scorpion, but that had been expected. They’d taken this road many times.

When they emerged from the last line of trees before the keep, Dandelion stopped cold, face tilted up to take in as much of it as he could. It was more stunning than he could have imagined. Now he could make out the balustrades, the walkways atop the walls. This was a massive keep, with few equals outside of royal domains.

He vaguely heard Eskel murmuring to Geralt, asking him to wait.

After a few moments, he reminded himself that he would be here all winter. He would have all the time in the world to stare at Kaer Morhen.

“You ready?” asked Eskel.

“I’m ready,” said Dandelion.

The first part of the keep that they approached was the outer defensive wall. It was bordered by two barbicans and in its center was a massive wooden gate. 

The moat lay in front of it, ringed in dark green moss. The muddy banks around the top of the moat hinted that it had once been deeper. The water shimmered dark and the moon sparkled off of the ripples where minnows poked up their heads. 

The bridge was a stone path that was bumpy in places. In the twilight, it would require some amount of concentration to cross.

“Are you okay?” asked Eskel. “Not too light headed?”

“I’m good,” nodded Dandelion.

“Walk in front,” said Eskel. “We’ll have Butterscotch follow Scorpion.”

Dandelion took the first few steps. He kept his eyes carefully on the path in front of him, intent not to trip on any rocks.

But when he was about halfway across, the gleam of something white in the shallow water on his left caught his eyes. He quickly glanced, and the shape of the white object brought him to a swift stand still.

It looked like a bone. 

It couldn’t be.

But in the dimness of dusk it looked as such. Dandelion couldn’t help but stop and stare. Eskel and Geralt came to a stop behind him with the procession of horses. Dandelion pointed.

“That looks like a bone,” he said, and he felt stupid as he said it. Why would it be a bone?

“It is, love,” said Eskel, drawing closer and placing a hand on his lower back.

Then other sparkles of white emerged from the water, once Dandelion knew what he was looking for. It dawned on him slowly that there were white shaped objects all over the floor of the moat, resting quietly.

“Yes. Well,” said Dandelion, voice unsure. He knew about the attack on the keep. As disturbing as it was, these men had done this to themselves, attacking the witchers and slaughtering them. This was the best they deserved. “I supposed it’s a good reminder to your enemies. Never again.”

Eskel leaned in to kiss him on the temple. Dandelion smiled bravely. He didn’t consider himself a coward. But a watery graveyard of bones still wasn’t something he relished.

“No, those are mostly the witchers we lost,” said Eskel.

Dandelion’s heart sunk. “All of your brothers-in-arms are in there?”

Eskel squeezed him tight by the waist.

He slid out of Eskel’s arms and knelt by the water, sweeping his eyes over the water, making out different kinds of bones: skulls, femurs, ribs. The passing of clouds obscured them, then cleared, and they glistened at him once more.

Dandelion realized that every time Eskel walked in and out of the keep, the bones of his people watched him quietly. They were posed as they had fallen, in violent death, betrayed by the very people who had created them, who had needed them, until they didn’t.

Dandelion couldn’t help picturing the bones of his parents in there. Could he walk by them? Bare and exposed? 

Eskel knelt beside him, leathers creaking.

“Are you alright?”

Dandelion sighed and swallowed. He looked for his voice and was grateful to find it. “It’s not about me, I know,” he said distantly, unable to yank his eyes from the scene before him. “It’s just. They weren’t buried. Or burned. Why not?”

“Vesemir said it was so we wouldn’t forget,” Eskel said gently.

“But. Did you do anything for them?” he asked softly. “To honor them?” He couldn’t, wouldn’t, shame the very people most traumatized by the siege. But he couldn’t understand it. 

“No,” said Eskel. “I suppose at the time we didn’t think about it. We were all--”

“In shock?” said Dandelion. “Numb?” He understood that. He’d been numb and had avoided properly grieving for years. Until Eskel had burst into his life. Until Eskel had sliced the light of his life out of a basilisk belly.

“Yes,” said Eskel. “We mostly tended to Vesemir. He was here you know. We found him under the corpse of his mentor. It’s how he survived.”

“Oh,” said Dandelion. He gazed, now unseeing, over the water. “That’s awful.” There weren't any words for it, really. “And you just get used to this?” 

“It doesn’t help to dwell on something you can’t change,” said Geralt. It was only then that Dandelion realized that Geralt had come up to stand next to them. He loomed above, with crossed arms.

“That’s true,” Dandelion said, looking up at Geralt. “But. Ah, it’s just—” He stopped. “Nevermind. It’s not about me.” His voice faltered, and he clenched his fists. He blinked and bit his tongue.

“I’ll see you two inside,” said Geralt abruptly. His voice sounded husky. He stepped around them and trudged towards the keep without another word. Roach clomped lightly around them too, following his witcher.

Dandelion turned to Eskel. His eyes were adjusting to the darkening sky. The patience and tenderness in Eskel’s eyes almost undid him. This was Eskel’s tragedy. Why was he holding Dandelion’s hand through _his_ shock?

“I’m sorry,” said Dandelion. “I upset him. I. Was just surprised.”

Eskel took his chin and pulled him to look into his eyes.

“It’s okay,” he said. “If he’s upset, it isn’t your doing. I’ll check on him later.”

Dandelion smiled ruefully. “And he was just getting used to me.”

Eskel chuckled.

“Used to you? Is that what you think happened here these last few days? He got used to you?”

Dandelion nodded. “He let me braid his hair. He laced the bodice for me.”

“Oh, sweetness,” said Eskel, pulling him in for an encompassing, tight hug. “Geralt doesn’t just let people touch him. He doesn’t just loan out his clothes. That was him shouting affection.”

Dandelion pulled back enough to look into Eskel’s sparkling eyes.

“Really?” he asked.

Eskel nodded. “Really.”

Dandelion nuzzled back into his neck. There they were, sitting on the stones in a pathway surrounded by gleaming bones, and Dandelion had never felt so safe.

“I’m proud of you,” whispered Eskel. 

Dandelion had a deficit of people saying they were proud of him. It happens by nature when you don’t have parents. So he tucked that feeling away in his heart.

“So. About Geralt,” said Dandelion. “If lending me gloves, and allowing me to touch his wound is affection, then he worships you.”

Eskel made a tsking noise. “Eh, it's complicated. We were kind of something more for a while...but then...” there was a pause. “It was his choice. I understood. He can have anyone.”

“He said himself that he makes terrible choices,” said Dandelion.

Again it was silent. Dandelion watched a crawdad skip across the water.

“I’m with you now,” said Eskel softly.

“Darling,” said Dandelion. “Love is an infinite resource.”

“What do you mean?” asked Eskel.

“I mean...” now Dandelion was searching for words. “I mean that, while I would not like to share you with just anyone, there are people who only increase the amount of love available. And what's more, Geralt is a part of you. I don’t believe in a love that requires you to cut off part of who you are.”

Dandelion forced himself to look out over the moat again. “Different people give you different things. He anchors you. He was there. I’m the lark who gives you new wings. We can both matter.”

Eskel squeezed him again. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” said Dandelion.

They held each other long enough to shake the cold of the trail. They held each other until Scorpion and Buttercup began complaining. The horses must have sensed Roach inside, eating oats without them.

“Let’s get you inside and warmed up,” said Eskel. “And now that you’ve spent a week puffing me up, let’s see if I still fit in the door.” 

He stood and held out his hand for Dandelion to take.

"Very good. Any advice for making a good impression on the rest of your family?" asked Dandelion.

"Sure," said Eskel. "Ignore Lambert."

\-----

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my loves!! Thank you once again for your patience. I have three (3!) WIPs now and whew I don't write very fast.
> 
> [Here’s the update post on tumblr](https://fangirleaconmigo.tumblr.com/post/630004768867319808/keep-me-forever) in case you want to help it out with a reblog. 
> 
> I'm always excited to update this piece because then I get to 'see' all of you. I recently read my word count and I've written now almost 80k Jaskel words. WOW I really know how to lean into a rarepair don't I? XD
> 
> Also, [this chapter discusses the day Dandelion met Eskel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24069502/chapters/58023604). If you haven't read it, it could be fun (though not necessary) to read the chapter I wrote about that day. It is part of another work but it can be read 100% as a standalone.
> 
> For those of you who have followed to this point, know by now that this work is going to be poly. So if you are still here, hey I'm happy to see you again.
> 
> And if you are poly and want to give me any feedback on how I'm doing, feel free! This chapter I think we've started laying the groundwork for that in serious with some communication, a metaphorical outstretched hand on the part of Jaskier.
> 
> So next chapter is inside the keep and we meet Lambert for the first time since the intro chapter.
> 
> Ok, I think that's it for now, I'll meet you in the comments!


	7. Thank You Lambert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt stomps into Kaer Morhen, setting off a tired and irritated Lambert. The feelings that ambushed him on the drawbridge are driving him to distraction, which only makes matter worse. Later, Eskel comes to visit him. Can he convince Geralt to accept the affection and comfort on offer in his and Dandelion's room?
> 
> \-----
> 
> “Oh, thank you Lambert. Thank you for waiting up for me and opening the gates, Lambert,” the younger witcher called sarcastically after him. “Thank you for leaving food and water out for my horse and keeping the torches lit, Lambert.”
> 
> Geralt made the effort to grunt, but he kept going at his same pace. He heard footsteps catching up to him.
> 
> “What crawled up your ass and died?” said Lambert, hurrying to keep pace.
> 
> “Nothing,” barked Geralt. “Leave it. None of your business.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my darlings, welcome back. We're really getting into it now. Brace yourself for e m o t i o n s.

Geralt 

Geralt barely registered Lambert as a blur as he stomped past him. His head ached. The bones in the moat gleamed in his mind's eye. Dandelion’s earnest face, welling with concern, bored into his godsdamn soul. It was like his skin was peeling back from an infected wound. His chest was tight and the urge to scream was building in him.

“Oh, _thank you_ Lambert. _Thank you_ for waiting up for me and opening the gates, Lambert,” the younger witcher called sarcastically after him. “Thank you for leaving food and water out for my horse and keeping the torches lit, Lambert.”

Geralt made the effort to grunt, but he kept going at his same pace. He heard footsteps catching up to him.

“What crawled up your ass and died?” Lambert asked, hurrying to keep pace.

“Nothing,” barked Geralt. “Leave it. None of your business.”

Geralt walked through the last bit of open space before the castle, eyes trained on the door handle ahead. Lambert hustled in front of him and blocked the door. Geralt finally looked at him. Lambert’s hair was ruffled and there was a red imprint of something on his cheek. It looked like he’d fallen asleep on the table. He was in a soft tunic and breeches for sleeping.

“Get the fuck out of the way, Lambert. Quit playing, I’m tired.”

“The hell I will,” he said. “I stay up to be the welcome party, and you just stomp past me like I don’t exist? Fuck you. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” said Geralt. “And don’t act like Vesemir didn’t make you do it. Isn’t like you volunteered.”

He grasped Lambert’s shoulder and shoved him out of the way. Lambert teetered on one leg, then righted himself. Geralt pulled open the door and passed through to the cavernous entryway.

Lambert was behind him again, crowding him.

“Is he here? Did he actually come? Dandelion?”

“Yeah,” said Geralt. “He’s here, you were wrong.” All he could think about was his bed. His muscles ached from the ride. He was even more exhausted by the irritating emotions that had ambushed him on the drawbridge. Ramming them back took energy.

Lambert scoffed and slapped Geralt on the arm. “I was wrong? I was wrong? How about WE were wrong. You didn’t think he’d come either.”

“Well he’s here,” said Geralt. He took a sharp right down a hall. Every step took him closer to his room and away from Lambert’s jabbering.

“That why you’re so bitchy?” needled Lambert. “Jealous, are you then? Eskel has his Dandelion here? He’s not mooning over you anymore, that it?”

“That’s not it,” growled Geralt. Eskel didn’t moon over him.

Their shuffling, stomping footsteps echoed down the hall.

“Well I blame this on you anyway,” Lambert muttered. 

“Blame what on me?”

“Our little visitor. If you hadn’t have dumped Eskel--”

Geralt stopped on a dime. He whirled on Lambert. He stopped so fast that Lambert hurdled several paces ahead. He turned to face Geralt with hands on hips.

“Dumped him??” demanded Geralt. “What do you mean, dumped him? Like we were...no we weren’t. How do you--” he realized he was stammering and shut his mouth with a click. He drew his lips tight.

Lambert cackled. Geralt wanted to punch him. It wasn’t worth it.

“Oh, right,” said Lambert. “Like there are any secrets in this crumbling drafty fuckin place. You think I never scented? Or heard? You think I don’t know when I’m a third wheel?”

Geralt’s jaw fell open. He probably looked like an especially incompetent fish. Lambert took the opportunity to pounce yet again.

“The way I see it, if you didn’t break the big idiot’s heart back then, we wouldn’t be here today. HE wouldn’t be here.”

“I didn’t break anything,” hissed Geralt. His voice was undeniably defensive. That was never a good sign. Sometimes Geralt didn’t know what he felt, until he said it out loud. Then, he judged the truth of it by how it sounded. If it sounded true, it was probably how he felt. But this sounded like a lie, even to his own ears. But he had committed to this line of argument so he persisted. “We were just--””

“Just fucking?” snorted Lambert. “Yeah, alright then. Sure. Just fucking. That’s why you look at each other like puppies. Looked, I guess. Because that’s not coming back. Now that his little flower is here-”

Geralt felt something else join the mass of already frustrating emotions in his chest. It was a flash of new anger. On Dandelion’s behalf. That was... odd.

“Leave him alone,” Geralt snapped.

“You don’t need to lecture me,” said Lambert, jabbing his thumb in his own chest. “I’m not the one that left him alone out there. How many people you think were lined up to take your place now that he has all those scars?”

“Shut the fuck up,” said Geralt. He instinctively moved towards Lambert.

Lambert didn’t twitch. His chin lifted just a hair. Geralt sighed. This was moronic. Letting Lambert provoke him. They were both tired.

“Nothing. I didn’t even mean him.” Geralt turned and continued towards his room and the peace and quiet he craved.

“Oooooo,” laughed Lambert. “Do you mean the flower?”

Geralt didn’t say anything. He just thumped up the stairs, his bag hitting his thighs and his swords clanking. Lambert kept time behind him while he chuckled.

“A couple days with him, and you’re his protection squad too?”

Geralt rumbled an irritated groan. “Just don’t be a dick to him,” said Geralt. “Think you can handle that?”

“Please, Geralt. Please don’t tell me you’re sprung on him too. Already.”

Geralt wasn’t looking at Lambert as they trudged along, but he could feel the incredulous smile spreading out on Lambert’s face the longer he remained silent.

“You are! Fuck me, you are. So you dump Eskel, now you want to steal his flower too??”

Geralt growled this time. “Shut up. That’s not what I want.”

He didn’t know what to say and his chest was pulling even tighter. His skin felt like a drum. He had never been more relieved to reach the door of his room. He opened it, ducked in, and slammed it shut.

He heard Lambert’s fed up voice on the other side.

“Sprung on him already. How many days did you spend with him? Three? Four? The fuck. Does his cock taste of roast pork? Does he cum gravy?”

Geralt yanked the door open again.

“I don’t...know..what his cock tastes like. And gravy? You’re disgusting.”

Lambert cackled. “But you want to.”

Geralt slammed the door again.

He heard Lambert mutter one last riposte.

“What, do you want them both?” He giggled, then lobbed one last shout at the door. “You’re welcome again!”

And finally, thanks be to the merciful gods, he was gone.

——-

Geralt moved around the room, putting his things away. He had unloaded most of his clothes into the wastebasket before he realized what he was doing.

He cursed under his breath and fished them out. There was a soft knock at the door. He’d been so deep in his own head that hadn’t heard anyone approach.

He opened the door and heaved an exaggerated sigh of relief when he saw Eskel filling the doorway with his broad shoulders.

“Thank fuck,” he said.

“Lambert being less than charming?” asked Eskel.

Geralt shrugged. “The usual.”

“Yeah, we passed him in the hall. He wouldn’t say hi to Dandy. Said he was too tired. But he did give him finger guns and a ‘good luck with all that’. Whatever that meant.”

“He’s a moron,” said Geralt. Though he knew that wasn’t true. Lambert seemed to know his feelings better than he did. Which perhaps was a lower bar than one might think. But still.

He continued roaming around the room putting his things away. Eskel hovered at the foot of his bed. Geralt saw out of the corner of an eye that he was fidgeting.

“What?” said Geralt. “What’s up?” He tucked his trousers in a drawer and slid his boots under the bed.

“Geralt, what’s wrong?” Eskel said.

Geralt sighed. “Just tired.” He didn’t meet Eskel’s eyes.

“Geralt.”

He sounded pained that time, and when Eskel sounded in pain, alarm bells went off in Geralt’s mind. Geralt stopped what he was doing. He turned and looked.

“Yes?”

“Please. Sit. Can we talk?” Eskel’s shoulders looked bunched up and his hands were jammed in his pockets.

Geralt got rid of the clothes in his hands. The rest of the things in his bags belonged to Dandelion. He dropped onto the bed and rubbed his face. Eskel stood in front of him, brow knit with worry.

Geralt patted the bed next to him.

Eskel sat. Their legs were close enough so their knees touched. Geralt leaned forward and propped himself up with his elbow on his knees. His hair fell down in curtains on either side of his face.

He felt Eskel’s fingers slide his hair behind his ear. It prickled softly at his skin. His eyes fluttered closed. He absently inhaled Eskel’s leather and pine scent.

“Can you tell me what’s bothering you?” Eskel repeated. “Please?” His voice was saturated with concern, and Geralt couldn’t understand how anyone was ever frightened by that voice. It had the opposite effect on Geralt. It soothed his frayed nerves.

Geralt shook his head. “It’s nothing. I don’t know what my problem is.”

Eskel waited patiently.

Lambert was right. Eskel was so good to him. And what he gave back was woefully, sadly inadequate sometimes. So he took a breath and dug deeper.

“I’ve walked by those bones a thousand times. I forgot they were there.”

Eskel’s hands were folded in his lap again. Geralt found himself staring at them. Remembering when Eskel’s fingers threaded through his, in secret. He supposed that it wasn’t such a secret after all.

Turns out that just because you don’t talk about a thing doesn’t make it a secret. It doesn't make it disappear, either.

“You get used to it,” said Eskel.

“Yeah,” said Geralt.

They sat silent for a moment. The silence was comfortable. It was always comfortable with Eskel.

“Then someone looks at you like they feel bad for you. And then you remember,” Eskel murmured. He looked tentatively at Geralt. They had never spoken of this and it felt like a tender spot.

Geralt nodded. “You remember it’s fucked up. You remember you lost almost everyone you ever cared about.”

Grief welled up in him like a tide. That’s what had been bursting out of his chest. Grief. Something in Dandelion had reached into him and given his grief permission to show itself.

“And we never really grieved did we? We never really---” His throat closed.

Eskel scooted up against him and drew him into his strong arms.

And a sob tore from his throat. A rebellious, mutinous sob. Then another.

Eskel squeezed him tighter, like he was catching him as he fell. It made more tears chase the ones already sliding down his face.

“This is...so...stupid,” he gasped. 

Eskel kissed his head and said,“No. No it isn’t.” He said it with such calm conviction, such quiet ferocity, that it caught Geralt off guard.

Snot started down his upper lip and he drew his sleeve across it.

Eskel got up and the bed sprung back up next to him. While Eskel rooted around for a handkerchief, Geralt remained sitting in the bed, silent tears rolling down his face. He felt...not embarrassed, necessarily. Eskel could make him feel normal in almost any circumstance. But he felt raw. Self-conscious.

Eskel knelt in front of him with a handkerchief. He took it and blew.

“It happened so long ago,” Geralt said.

“Doesn’t matter,” Eskel said. “Doesn’t matter.”

“I’m fine. Sorry. I didn’t mean to be a dick. Out on the drawbridge.” He hiccuped.

“You weren’t,” said Eskel. He put his hands on Geralt's knees and looked up at him gently. “You were just fine.”

“He just looked so...I don’t know. Like he felt sad. For me. For us.”

“It is sad. What happened.”

“I know.” Geralt wiped one eye then the other with a sleeve. “I know.”

“He cares,” said Eskel. “He’s overflowing with it.”

“I know.”

Geralt breathed in and out slowly while Eskel patted his knees and watched him with soft eyes.

“You’re so good with him,” Geralt said. The words came out in a whisper. He pulled in a ragged breath. “It’s nice. How do you do it?”

“It all comes so naturally to him,” said Eskel. “To love, and be loved. Affection. Words. It’s so easy for him that, that I...” Eskel scratched his head, “...just come out and say things I struggle with most other times. Things I’d usually keep inside.”

“He’s easy to love,” said Geralt quietly. He didn’t say the rest. _Unlike me. The tragic, closed off witcher who pushed you away._

But Eskel read it on his face. He squeezed his knees and Geralt looked back into the depths of love and amber eyes.

“You are too.” Said Eskel. “You are too. I would’ve-“ He stopped and looked at the floor for a moment. “I would’ve given you the same if you would’ve let me.” He looked up. “I would’ve. You always acted like I was doin’ you a favor but that wasn’t it. It wasn’t like that. I just. I was afraid to tell you. You could have anyone. And you’d found somebody else.”

Eskel’s voice broke off. Geralt reached out and slid his hand down Eskel’s face, cupping his cheek. He looked into Eskel’s eyes and there was nothing and no one else he could remember wanting more.

“I was an idiot,” Geralt said.

“It’s not too late,” said Eskel.

Geralt huffed a chuckle. “Three’s a crowd, isn’t it?”

“No,” said Eskel. “It’s just right. I care about you, Geralt. And Dandy, he cares about you already too. I don’t know how to explain it. But he does. It’s like he loved me already. I just had to find him. And it’ll be the same with you. Besides,” Eskel caught his breath, “he said that you’re part of me. And that love shouldn't cut off a part of me.”

“Fuck,” said Geralt. “He’s something else.”

“Yeah,” said Eskel. “He is. You should come to our room tonight. Please. Come sleep with us. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“I’m fine,” said Geralt. “I don’t need—“

“Don’t you fuckin’ _dare_ say pity,” said Eskel. “Don’t you dare.”

Geralt ran his hands up and down his own thighs. He wanted to say yes. But fuck. He was still wrestling with some tangle of feelings that he was beginning to recognize as fear. Also, what if they laid in bed and Dandelion or Eskel wanted sex? The thought would normally be thrilling. But he felt drained and raw.

“Thanks. I’m gonna stay in here though. I’m not feeling...sociable.”

“Geralt,” said Eskel. “You don’t have to be sociable. You don’t have to be anything. You can just be.”

Geralt shook his head. “Thanks. Really. But I’m good here.”

Eskel

Eskel closed the door behind him.

“How is he?” asked Dandelion. He sat cross legged on the bed in one on Eskel’s tunics. His lovely blue eyes were drawn with exhaustion. He massaged his bare thighs with his thumbs in circles. He was pressing hard and cringing as he did.

Seeing Dandelion, in Kaer Morhen, in his room was like the completion of a circle. Eskel hadn’t fully grasped the joy that would bring him.

“He’s mostly better now,” said Eskel. “What’s going on? You alright?” The loose garment Dandelion wore was soft and rumpled and it made Eskel yearn to draw him in his arms.

“My thighs, my ass, are killing me. I didn’t realize until I sat down.”

Eskel walked over to the side table. “Ah, yeah Angel. You aren’t used to riding at all. Much less for days. Let me get some balm or you’re not gonna be able to stand in the morning.”

He rummaged through a drawer.

“He didn’t want to come join us?” asked Dandelion, the whites of his knuckles kneading into his thighs.

“No.” Eskel shook his head. He climbed onto the bed with a gray tin of balm in his hand. “Here, sit against the bed board.”

Dandelion obeyed. Eskel sat beside him, facing him. He drew one of Dandelion’s legs into his lap and opened the jar. Dandelion sneezed.

Eskel chuckled. “It’s a little strong but it works.” He slathered some on both hands and then laid both hands on Dandelion’s thigh. It felt so smooth and warm on his palms.

“This’ll tingle a little.” He slid his hands in a circle and Dandelion blew out a breath.

“You ok?”

Dandelion nodded.

“I have to press a little hard. You ready?”

Dandelion nodded. Eskel pressed a little harder with both hands, watching the flesh ripple in his fingers.

Dandelion hissed.

“This alright?”

Dandelion nodded again. “Don’t stop.”

“I invited him,” Eskel said. “I tried.”

“He knows he’s welcome, right?” asked Dandelion. “That I want him here too?” 

Eskel smiled to himself. Dandelion fussing over Geralt felt like reinforcements. His love cared about what he cared about. He’d never even known to dream of a partnership like that.

“He does, love.” He moved his hands higher on Dandelion’s thigh, closer to his groin. He spread the balm thoroughly over every bit of skin, making it shiny in the flickering torchlight.

“And did I offend him? Outside?”

“No, not at all. He just wants space right now.”

“I understand,” said Dandelion.

“Give me the other one.”

Dandelion flipped one leg over Eskel, and positioned the other in his lap. Eskel spread more balm on his hands and started rubbing again.

“You know,” said Dandelion. “Geralt said something to me in the shop. I’ve been thinking about it.”

“Yeah, what’s that?” asked Eskel.

“He said something about your scars.”

“What’s that, love?” He slid a hand up each side of Dandelion’s upper leg, watching the dark hair slide under his fingers.

“It wasn’t what he said, exactly,” said Dandelion. “It just made me think. I made a big fuss about you changing your face.”

“You did.”

“And I was so upset at the time, I don’t know how eloquent I was.”

“You got your point across.” Eskel worked and twisted his hands, feeling Dandelion’s muscle ease and loosen.

“I was only upset because you thought you needed to do it to make my life easier. Because I love you just the way you are. You got that right?”

Eskel grinned. “Yeah. I got that.”

“But what you do with your face or your body is entirely up to you. Your body belongs to you.”

“I understood that.”

“Good. I would love you no matter what your outside looked like.”

“Thank you, love.”

Dandelion caught his wrists, and Eskel’s eyes flicked up to meet his. His balm-slicked palms hovered over Dandelion’s leg. Blue eyes regarded him emphatically.

“I mean it. If you changed yourself to a merman, I would follow you into the ocean."

Eskel couldn’t help the involuntary grin that sprung to his face. He pictured himself as a mighty merman with a ferocious tail and Dandelion wading out into the water to greet him.

“You can't breathe underwater,” Eskel said, chuckling. "You'd die."

“I’d die as I lived. Pining for Eskel of Kaer Morhen.”

Eskel laid his hands on Dandelion’s hips and leaned in. He kissed him slow and sweet, the smells of balm, Kaer Morhen, and honeysuckle wine and the soft lips of his love pressed against him.

“Jester,” he said.

“It’s true though. And if you changed yourself to a dragon I’d learn to fly.” He swung his arms wide to punctuate his point.

Now Eskel pictured himself as a dragon. He would make a ridiculous looking dragon. But he’d be fine with Dandelion perched atop him.

“You don’t have to fly,” said Eskel. “You could ride me.”

“I could.” Dandelion wiggled his eyebrows. “I could ride you as a witcher, too.”

“I trundled right into that one, didn’t I?” laughed Eskel.

“You did. Though I’m likely exaggerating. I couldn’t ride anything in my current condition.”

“Ok, lay down. I need to get this on your ass too,” said Eskel.

Dandelion made a face. “Please do, it’s excruciating, I’ll admit.” He settled himself flat on his stomach, and Eskel straddled his legs. He pulled down his underclothes.

“Darling, don’t be offended if I don’t get hard. I’m in extreme pain.”

“I never would,” said Eskel. He rubbed the balm on Dandelion’s ass and he admired the perfect round cheeks on his love as he did. Then he massaged into his flesh, as Dandelion made little groans that were a cross between relief and pain.

“You alright?”

“Yes, it hurts but I need it. Keep going.”

After thoroughly coating every sore part of Dandelion with the balm, Eskel washed up and extinguished the lanterns. He undressed and crawled under the covers with Dandelion. He hummed contentedly when he finally drew him into his arms.

“Thank you for coming home with me,” whispered Eskel.

Before Dandelion could answer there was a knock at the door. It was so soft, that had either of them had been speaking, they might have missed it entirely.

Eskel knew a knock that soft couldn’t be Lambert. Hope bloomed in his chest as he carefully pulled his arms from beneath Dandelion’s neck.

“Think he changed his mind?” whispered Dandelion.

Eskel quickly padded over to the door.

The door opened and Geralt stood in the doorway looking uncertain. Most all of the lanterns were extinguished for the night, so he stood in the dark. His golden eyes caught the little bit of light that remained.

“Heard you had room for one more,” said Geralt.

Eskel took him by the hand and squeezed.

“We do.”

“Bring him here,” said Dandelion happily, from the bed. He was rubbing his eyes. He’d taken off the tunic and his fair skin set off the lush thick hair in his chest.

Eskel led him to the bedside. He thumbed the bottom hem of Geralt’s shirt. Geralt nodded and lifted his arms.

Eskel pulled Geralt’s shirt off then took his face in his hands.

“We’re glad you came.”

Then he slid his arms around Geralt’s warm bare skin and squeezed him tight. Geralt lay his head down on his shoulder and wrapped his arms around Eskel’s waist.

Eskel’s hands slid down Geralt’s back, greeting the familiar scars.

“Come on,” he said.

Eskel climbed into bed, into the warm spot heated by Dandelion’s body. Dandelion quickly snuggled up to his left side, molding himself around his body.

Eskel held out his right arm towards Geralt.

“Sure you want a tragic, morose witcher in your love nest?” asked Geralt as he climbed in next to Eskel, pulling the covers over the three of them.

He settled his head into the crook of Eskel’s arm, and found Dandelion close by, cuddled up on Eskel’s other shoulder. He gazed at Geralt in the dimness, sleepy hooded eyes casting shadows with thick lashes.

“You aren’t tragic,” said Dandelion. He ghosted his hand on Geralt’s cheek. When Geralt leaned forward, he allowed his hand to settle there. “What happened was evil. And tragic. But you? You’re a survivor. A miracle. You all are.”

Eskel could feel Geralt melting into the affection. It was like receiving affection himself. He craned down and felt Geralt lean forward, lips seeking his out. So Eskel kissed Geralt. It had been years. But it was as though no time had passed at all. Because it felt exactly as it should.

Geralt’s lips were like coming home.

Geralt leaned and pressed into him, breathing slower with each passing moment.

Then Eskel turned his head and he was kissing Dandelion. His lush lipped, eager Angel. It was an unfathomable luxury, Geralt tucked against one shoulder and Dandelion against the other.

And then they were gazing at each other, Geralt and Dandelion.

Dandelion found Geralt’s hand and clasped it. Eskel’s heart warmed to see Geralt squeeze back.

“Go ahead,” said Eskel, bemusement in his voice.

So Geralt and Dandelion, faces leaning against the expanse of Eskel’s chest, kissed.

Eskel closed his eyes and listened to them sigh against one another’s lips.

They fell asleep like that, legs tangled together, hearts beating together, and if it was a dream, Eskel never wanted to wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello loves. I hope you enjoyed the beginning of Geralt letting down his walls. Let me know. I'll meet you in the comments as always.
> 
> Also, here is a bit of my approach as we move forward. There will be plot that unfolds soon, but as far as they dynamics, it is this:
> 
> I picture the wolves of Kaer Morhen as a family with its own ingrained habits and calcified dynamics. They've been through a tremendous amount of trauma and coped any way they could. And Dandelion, though he has had more than his share of grief and loss, grew up with love. So his freely given affection and openness with love throws a bit love bomb in the middle of all of this.
> 
> Also (and this is a bit of foreshadowing) but he is a sex worker. He doesn't have the same stigma attached to the various sexual needs that Geralt or Lambert may have. So his openness and lack of shame with sex will also be a wonderful disruptive force.
> 
> And I mention Lambert, because though he will be a tougher nut to crack, he will be shown the same love and attention as the other two wolves. So fear not. He may be a challenge, but Dandelion loves a good challenge. And Lambert of course, has no idea what he's up against at this point, but it will be fun to see him find out.
> 
> Also, this chapter has now been copy edited by @lovelyrita1967 check out her Geraskier rom-coms on here.


	8. They Are Going to Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dandelion wakes up and Geralt is already gone. But Eskel is still asleep beside him. So he wakes the witcher up the best way he knows how.
> 
> They also discuss Geralt and Lambert and Dandelion learns a bit more what to expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNINGS PLEASE READ: Waking up Eskel with a blowjob AND Bottom!Eskel.
> 
> This chapter jumps RIGHT INTO Dandelion waking Eskel up with a blowjob. It isn't proper somnophilia because the point is not to give a sleeping person a blowjob. It's to wake him up. But you could interpret this as hints of somnophilia because he is asleep when Dandelion starts playing with him. I am asking that you assume they had a conversation about this previously and it was properly consented to. 
> 
> You see, I didn't actually plan to write this exact sex scene so I did not work that in previously. When I outline, I usually just leave a slot for (SEX SCENE) and I decide what kind of sex it will be after. 
> 
> But since I didn't plan it out, there was no 'on the page' conversation in previous chapters. Those are the hazards of posting each chapter as you go. It's too late to work that convo in. SO I am just asking that you believe that at some point they had a conversation where Dandelion said...how do you feel about being woken up with a blow job. (not everyone would like that, so it's an important question) and Eskel said YES PLEASE. 
> 
> Also, we have bottom!Eskel here. If you have some aversion to Eskel bottoming, perhaps skip until the post coital conversations.

Eskel

Eskel stirred from a deep, restful sleep. He squirmed involuntarily just before waking reality took form. Something tight and wet and warm engulfed his cock. The realization sent a spike of crackling pleasure through his body. He felt a drowsy moan tear from his throat.

The supple ring of pressure tightened. Eskel instinctively thrust into it and groaned again, choked from half sleep. His eyes flickered half open.

Through his lashes, he could see that he was on a bed. His own bed in Kaer Morhen. He looked down. Dandelion’s warm, inviting body was wedged between his legs. His bare broad shoulders, dusted with black hair and freckles, flexed and relaxed. His graceful neck strained with motion. His wide eyes looked at him from behind soft wispy brown bangs. His pink plump lips stretched around his cock.

The wild thrill of it seized him. The thrill of Dandelion’s doe eyes seeking him out for approval while he swallowed his cock whole. His angel. Here, in Kaer Morhen.

“S' good,” Eskel rasped, grinding his hips and laying a hand in Dandelion’s tousled hair. “Fuck.”

Dandelion hollowed his cheeks and sucked urgently while he flicked his tongue in languid circles. Pleasure curled in Eskel’s stomach. Dandelion took Eskel all the way down to the root, puffs of breath from his nose tickling the thatch of hair around his cock.

Eskel inhaled sharply. He was awake now. His eyes were blown wide. His toes curled. He inhaled the musk of Dandelion’s arousal and the tangy scent of his saliva dripping onto Eskel’s balls and thighs. Eskel luxuriated in the sensation and building desperation. He had to breathe deeply to give his body space not to cum. Not yet. He didn’t want it to be over so soon.

A ray of morning sun swept in through a slit in the curtains. It cast a stripe on the side of Dandelion’s face. It gleamed on his hair. It glinted on the precious little tear squeezing out of Dandelion’s glazed, adoring eyes.

Fuck.

Dandelion bobbed his head now, and Eskel couldn’t stop the puffy moans tumbling in cadence from his mouth. Eskel reached down. He lightly rested his fingertips on the sides of Dandelion’s lips, feeling them stretched. Feeling his cock slip in and out.

“Like that, love?” Eskel hummed. Dandelion managed to nod as he slid up and down his hard length. Eskel swept the tear away from Dandelion’s eye and brought it to his lips. It was salty and warm.

Dandelion slurped in response and added his hand to Eskel’s cock, and the firm pressure urged the curl of pleasure in his body forward. Dandelion’s other hand slipped up the inside of Eskel’s thigh, dragging soft oiled fingertips up to nudge insistently between his buttocks.

Holy shit.

One of Dandelion’s slicked fingers breached his hole. It added another overwhelming dimension to his pleasure. His awareness retracted. There was only Dandelion’s mouth. His lips. His tongue. The grip of his hand around Eskel’s shaft. The delicious intrusion of his finger, now his two fingers stretching him. The heat of Dandelion’s mouth could no longer match the heat growing in Eskel’s stomach.

“Angel,” said Eskel. “Fuck.”

Eskel’s restraint evaporated. He gripped the sides of Dandelion’s head and thrust up. Dandelion groaned around his cock. The vibrations of it nudged Eskel even closer to the edge, his orgasm surged forward like a wave.

“I’m...gonna...hng,” breathed Eskel. Dandelion strained to angle his head up as Eskel’s thrusts nudged it in rhythm. His eyes sparkled with promise and pooled tears. And he nodded to say, Go on then, as he thrust in a third finger into Eskel and curled them.

Eskel felt the heat in his stomach blossom. It engulfed him. His body went momentarily rigid as his orgasm tore through him. He released into Dandelion’s mouth as he clung to his hair, squeezing his eyes shut and keening shamelessly.

His body thrummed in the afterglow. He felt lax, and blissful. He smiled down at Dandelion and then dropped his arms heavily to the bed. He kept his eyes on Dandelion though.

Dandelion made a show of dragging his lips slowly off of Eskel’s spent cock, tightening them as he went, then suckling reverently at the tip to catch every drop of cum. Then he pulled his lips off and tilted his head up, giving Eskel a view of his bare neck. Eskel watched transfixed as Dandelion’s adam’s apple bobbed to swallow his cum. Dandelion licked his lips noisily and swiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

“Good morning, darling,” he said. His voice was rough and lips were puffy. Eskel knew it couldn’t be easy to take his considerable girth.

“Fuck,” said Eskel. “Come here.”

Dandelion dipped his head down to place a tender, soft kiss on the head of his cock then he looked up with a rakish smile. Eskel grasped for him and pulled him tight up to his chest, nuzzling his neck, placing kisses at his jaw, then dipping his tongue in between Dandelion’s lips and tasting a hint of himself.

“You are delicious, my Eskel,” said Dandelion, husky and teasing. “Are you happy?”

“Yes. I’ve never been happier to wake,” said Eskel. "You made good on your promise."

“Good,” Dandelion murmured against Eskel’s neck. “And yes, of course I did. Just a little reminder that inviting me here was a sound decision.”

“I already knew that,” Eskel said. He basked in the snuggle of their chest hair together and the toastiness of their tangled limbs. He felt Dandelion’s hard cock on his thigh.

“What would you like now, love?” he asked.

Dandelion wiggled into a position where he could see Eskel’s eyes and he rolled his cock onto Eskel’s hip, dragging precum.

“Mmmm,” Eskel said, and he reached to squeeze Dandelion’s ass. “Well?”

Dandelion chewed on his lower lip. “I want something we haven’t done yet. But if you don’t want to, I won’t be disappointed. I only want to do it if you do.”

Eskel raised his eyebrows. “Tell me.”

“Can I...” Dandelion started. “May...I...I want to be inside you. Is that ok? Would you like that?” He kissed Eskel on his scarred cheek, then looked carefully into his eyes.

Eskel turned the idea over in his mind. He was usually the one fucking his partners. It was his strongest, most ever present urge, and it made him happy to indulge it. But it didn’t mean he had to always play that role.

He imagined how it might feel now. He was sated. Relaxed. Dandelion had pressed and massaged him open. If he was going to do it, now was the perfect time. And his love was looking at him with big blue pools of love and want. He was pressed to him, smelling of his cum.

Yes. Yes he wanted this. He nodded. “Yes. Go ahead.”

“Really?” Dandelion grinned, glee immediately apparent. His fingers fidgeted, stroking Eskel’s hair.

Eskel chuckled. “Yes, I want you inside me.”

“Oh gods, yes, oh gods,” stammered Dandelion. “Just hearing you say it, oh, I’ll make it so good for you, I promise.” He sat back and slid his hands under Eskel’s thighs.

“I know you will. I trust you,” murmured Eskel as he let his finger trail down Dandelion’s furry chest and down to his soft, firm stomach.

“These thick delicious thighs are going to be the death of me, darling,” he said. He pulled up Eskel’s knees until his legs were bent on either side of Dandelion.

Eskel smiled. Sometimes he still didn’t know how to respond to being described as a delicacy. It made him feel so good, but _thank you_ stuck in his throat. But Eskel looked softly at him, and he knew Dandelion understood.

Dandelion’s eyes roamed him as though he were a ripe peach and he were a ravenous man. “How would you like it, my love. Like this? On your back?”

Eskel nodded. “This is perfect.”

Dandelion pulled his legs apart and scooted closer.

Eskel’s stomach fluttered. Then tensed. Dandelion lay a warm, deft hand just below his belly button and stroked softly in a circle. “I’ll go slow, darling,” he whispered.

Eskel’s body instinctively relaxed again. Dandelion looked at him, so full of love, he felt like a beautiful thing. He shivered when Dandelion’s lips touched his thigh, placing a few kisses that soothed him further.

“Ready?”

“Yes,” he nodded.

Dandelion slipped his fingers in again first, working in more slick. Eskel’s thighs fell open wider as he arched his back and released an airy moan.

“Oh, yes, you’re ready for me, my love. Feel how open you are for me. Fuck.”

“I’m ready,” said Eskel, ragged and breathy.

Dandelion nudged his hole with the head of his cock and Eskel lifted his hips to greet it. He so rarely felt this sensation. He held his breath as Dandelion inched his soft tip forward, popping just inside him.

“Breathe, love,” cooed Dandelion, as he stroked his stomach again.

Eskel breathed, and Dandelion waited. Eskel was impressed by his control. He knew well that an animalistic urge to thrust was incredibly compelling. But Dandelion seemed at ease. Intense, yes, but his body didn’t surge or press. He waited, fingers caressing Eskel’s stomach, eyes like beams on his own.

Eskel nodded then pressed his body forward, taking in more of Dandelion’s heavy cock.

“Ahhhh,” groaned Dandelion with a soft giggle. “Fuck. You feel exquisite.”

Dandelion gripped his thighs and moved in, still slow and smooth. Eskel covered his hands with his own and clutched at his wrists as he pressed down, taking him further still.

“Yes, take your time,” said Dandelion. He hissed it in pleasure but his body was still completely under control, allowing Eskel to press down at his own pace.

He watched Dandelion’s face contort in shocked pleasure as he sunk into him. His mouth fell open into an ‘o’ and his eyes squeezed closed then opened again to lock eyes with him. Even if it hadn’t felt so fucking good, which it did, that look would have been worth it a hundred times over.

He bottomed out with a hnnfh.

“Move,” said Eskel. “Fuck me, love.”

Dandelion slid out, almost all the way and he pressed back in, faster this time. The way he felt impaled, while gulping in the sight of Dandelion’s slim hips and broad shoulders, muscles tensing and fingers clutching his thighs, it was overwhelming.

He gripped the blankets and urged Dandelion forward. “Harder,” he said. Dandelion grinned wickedly and pulled his thighs higher.

At his insistent urging, Dandelion fucked him hard and punishing. Eskel wanted to see him like this. His beautiful man could be commanding when he chose to be, taking him ferociously. Eskel held on, body jumping and thighs trembling and heart singing. Sweat pooled on his chest and glistened on Dandelion’s temples. He pulled Dandelion down until he could kiss him, languid and sensual while he fucked him mercilessly.

And when Dandelion came into him, pressed up tight against him, shouting his name, he truly was in paradise. Kaer Morhen would hold so many delights this winter.

Eskel lifted his hips again so Dandelion could pull out gingerly. He dashed away to get a towel to clean Eskel off, grinning like the beautiful fool he was the entire time.

Dandelion kissed him sweetly then flopped onto the bed next to him. “How do you feel?” he asked, still panting gently.

“Amazing. Shit,” Eskel said. “I’m fuckin speechless.”

Dandelion snuggled up to his shoulder. “Good.”

“And I still feel like I’m in someone else’s life,” said Eskel. “But in a good way.”

“You may as well get used to it,” said Dandelion. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thank the gods for that,” said Eskel.

Dandelion’s eyes followed Eskel’s hand as it absently touched the empty space next to him. He was just fully coming into his wits and remembering that when they had fallen asleep, Geralt had been there.

“He was gone when I woke up,” said Dandelion. “Do you think he’s embarrassed?”

Eskel chuckled. “Geralt? Embarrassed? Now that you know he’s a cuddler?”

At the word ‘cuddle’, Eskel gathered Dandelion in his arms and squeezed.

Dandelion smiled. “Yes.”

Eskel grew serious. “Maybe. There are a lot of layers to Geralt. Walls. And...” He stopped.

“Yes?” asked Dandelion.

Eskel still wasn’t completely used to talking openly about things like this. “Well,” he continued, “he may still open up slowly. If at all, in some ways. And as for the sex?” he grunted in frustration. “How do I put this?”

Dandelion placed his chin on Eskel’s chest. “This is a no judgement area. What about the sex?”

Eskel’s fingers absently patted Dandelion’s back. “Geralt fucks around. He has sex probably more than any of us put together. But he doesn’t ever really let himself ask for what he wants. Except with me. For a while anyway. He would come to me for what he never felt comfortable asking anyone else for. What he wanted the most.”

“And what did he want the most?”

Eskel kissed Dandelion’s head and let go of him for a second to stretch before he continued. “To be totally vulnerable. Give up control.”

“Like, to be restrained? Tied up? Things like that?”

“Yeah,” said Eskel. “Things like that. For starters.”

“But that embarrassed him?”

“I think so. Geralt always thinks he has to be in control. He has to be responsible for everyone. He takes it so hard when he fucks up or when anything bad happens to someone he cares about. I think that’s why he needed what I did for him. That probably sounds stupid.”

“It doesn’t sound stupid at all my darling. It sounds like being human,” said Dandelion.

Eskel nodded. “Well, when we were together, it seemed pretty clear he loved it. But I got the picture that he thought it was something shameful for me. Like I was doing him a favor.”

Dandelion huffed. “It sounds divine, really. To be trusted so by someone you love. To see him like that.”

“It was,” said Eskel. “It was. But,” Eskel sighed. “I don’t think I ever really told him that. I tried, but I wasn’t good at saying it. I was afraid. And as soon as he found someone else to give it to him, he bailed.”

“Did he break your heart?” asked Dandelion. He said it with such tenderness that it took Eskel aback. He hadn’t thought of it in such terms. He hadn’t thought that it mattered what he felt. It just was.

“Yes,” said Eskel, “and no. I missed him. Bad. I was lonely. But I didn’t think I’d lost him forever. I’m his home. Where else would he come back to?”

Dandelion blinked and listened intently. “That makes sense.”

“I tried to tell him I loved doing those things for him. That it was for me too. But we aren’t good at that. We don’t just...talk about things like that. We don’t.”

“I get it,” said Dandelion.

“You do?”

“Yes. I do. After my parents died, Sarah and I didn’t talk about them. It was like a delicate chandelier was hanging over our heads. And if we spoke, it would fall and shatter and shred us to ribbons. And once you get in that habit, it’s almost impossible to break out of.”

“Yes. Exactly. It isn’t that I didn’t care,” said Eskel.

“Of course it isn’t. It’s that you care too much. When you lose almost everything and everyone you have...when you feel lost at sea, there is nothing more terrifying than the idea that you might be rejected by someone you need.”

“That’s true.” Eskel was constantly surprised how someone so different from him could understand him so well. As long as he made a little effort to express it, Dandelion would always meet him there.

“And you wolf witchers need each other.”

Eskel nodded. “We do. And I need to get better at telling them. How did you do it?”

“With my sister?”

“Yeah.”

“You. You helped us,” Dandelion said.

“Me?”

“Yes, you.” Dandelion squeezed his waist. “You came along and reminded us to live again. Sometimes it takes something from the outside to disrupt your fearful habits.”

“And you can do that for us,” said Eskel. “You’re plenty destructive.”

“DISRUPTIVE,” Dandelion corrected him with a laugh, pinching his sides. “But yes, I am. And I can help with Geralt. I’m entirely comfortable with any kind of sexual encounter he may need. I do this for a living. I’m fucking good at this.”

Eskel kissed him gently and looked into Dandelion’s eyes. “It isn’t skill, though. It’s trust. He’d have to trust you. Build up to it.”

“Building trust IS a skill,” said Dandelion. “But I get your point. Don’t whip out the ropes on the first outing.”

“Exactly.”

“I just don’t know how you have the kind of sex where one person gives up control, but you didn’t talk about it? In my experience it requires conversation.”

Eskel shrugged. “A bit. But you have to remember that I can scent him. I can hear his heartbeat. We get by with that more than you’d think.”

“And where do you think he is?”

“Working. They let us sleep in. We should probably go now though.”

“Got it,” said Dandelion. “I am excited to meet the others.” He slid off the bed and Eskel managed a pinch on his ass before he was out of arm’s length and Dandelion squeaked. “Just let me get dressed.”

Dandelion rooted through his bags, which were still unpacked, as Eskel rubbed his face. “I need to shave. Hair grows in so weird around my scars.”

“I can shave you if you like,” said Dandelion. He pulled on a pair of satin green panties.

“Later,” said Eskel. “We’re already late.”

“Ok,” said Dandelion. “I need to use the mirror and let Yana and Lilly know I made it here ok. They can tell Sarah and Lety.”

Dandelion looked up and noticed Eskel was sitting on the bed, eyes trained on his underwear.

“What, darling?” he asked.

“Is that Oxenfurt lace?” asked Eskel.

Dandelion looked at him quizzically.

“It isn’t.” Dandelion tilted his head. “I wasn’t aware you knew names of lace varieties.”

“Oh,” said Eskel. “Not me. Lambert mentioned it. Says you wear lingerie with gold threads and enchanted dyes.”

Dandelion pursed his lips. His eyes smiled. “Did he now?”

“Yes,” said Eskel.

“How did he know?”

Eskel shrugged. “He heard, I guess. You’re always saying you’re renowned.”

“Hmmm,” said Dandelion. He slipped them back off.

He searched through his bags and held up a lacy gold set of underwear.

“These are,” he said. He pulled them up, then hooked on the bra. Eskel hadn’t seen him wear a bra before. It was enticing.

“He won’t be able to see them,” Eskel said.

“Sure he will,” said Dandelion. He slid on an off-the-shoulder blouse. The straps and sides of the bra did indeed show. “I don’t want to disappoint.”

“Pfff,” said Eskel. “As if you could. You’re going to make my whole pack fall in love with you.” He felt himself glowing with pride. He loved his wolf witchers. But they were in desperate need of a disruptive force. A love bomb. Eskel felt so safe and loved, and he wanted them to feel the same.

Next, Dandelion pulled on a silky skirt and buttoned on something that looked like a corset. It made Dandelion’s shoulders look even more broad and his hips more narrow, and his ass swell out in a firm lovely curve. Eskel whistled low.

“I call this my slutty milkmaid ensemble,” said Dandelion.

Eskel came up behind him and slid his hands up his skirt and kissed his neck. "Never seen a milkmaid look like this."

Dandelion nudged back with his ass. “We’d better go before you get me worked up again, witcher. Get dressed.”

Eskel pulled on his work clothes and Dandelion watched him with interest as he put on his jewelry. He accidentally stabbed himself on an earring, though. Then he had to pay attention to his own dressing process.

“What are we doing today?” asked Dandelion.

“Well, we’re going to the kitchens. Then we are going to start on our chores. This is a huge old place that needs a lot of work, Vesemir can’t keep up with it. So we do it. And we frontload our outdoor work to the first few weeks we arrive because we can’t do some of it after the snow comes.”

“And how can I help?” asked Dandelion, pulling up a stocking. “I can change to more practical clothes if I need to work on something that requires it.”

“Nah,” said Eskel. “Vesemir gives out the chores. But you’re a guest. I think you should relax your first day.”

Dandelion smiled and he slung a small bag over his shoulder. Eskel could see the giddy anticipation build in his eyes and his restless limbs. So he squeezed his hand tight.

“They’re going to love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, my loves. I hope you enjoyed. I know that you are looking forward to Dandy with the other witchers, and that is coming. I just wanted Eskel and Dandy to have a real sex scene first (I was shocked to realize that we are on ch8 and I haven't given them one). And I wanted to flesh out a little about Geralt's history with Eskel and let Dandy know about Lambert noticing his lace before they went to meet the rest of them.
> 
> I tend to lay a lot of emotional groundwork in this fic. I cannot help myself. And I feel like its necessary for the story I want to tell later one.
> 
> Let me know what you think! I'll meet you in the comments. I loveeeeeeeeee my Eskel's Angel commenters.


	9. Meeting Vesemir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dandelion finally meets Vesemir and Lambert. 
> 
> \-------
> 
> “Morning,” boomed Eskel. He entered the kitchen first, and Dandelion trailed behind him.
> 
> Vesemir laid down the tongs and whipped around. “Good morning,” he answered cheerily. He looked around Eskel expectantly. Eskel moved aside and Dandelion stepped forward. He clasped his hands in front of himself nervously.
> 
> “Vesemir, Lambert, this is Dandelion,” said Eskel. He said Dandelion like a royal salute. His fingers hovered on the small of Dandelion’s back, gently urging him forward.
> 
> “You can call me Dandy,” said Dandelion. He held out his hand.
> 
> “Nice to meet you, Dandy,” said Vesemir. He was a handsome man with silver hair and wide set eyes. He had the same mesmerizing cat-like pupils as Geralt and Eskel. His handshake was firm and authoritative.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are no content warnings. This is literally just a nice conversation. Just so you know, I am not including Ves in the witcher sex piles in this fic. I'm not against that. Ves is hot, and I read lots of explicit Ves fics with gusto and appreciation. (thank you sexy Ves smut writers I see you and love you and you see me in your comments sections haha)
> 
> I just decided in this fic to tell a different story. This Dandelion is an orphan and this Vesemir wishes to make Kaer Morhen more like a home to drown out the memories of all the things Kaer Morhen used to be. So they find some missing familial puzzle piece in each other.
> 
> Enjoy <3

Dandelion

Dandelion skimmed his fingers along a maroon and green tapestry as he ambled down the hall. Eskel followed, eyes fixed shamelessly on his ass.

“It was so dark I didn’t see any of this last night,” Dandelion said dreamily. He spied an ornate window and darted to it, pressing his nose to the glass. Eskel smiled indulgently. They passed a nook with an elegant high backed chair nestled in it. Dandelion dashed over to sit in it, crossing his legs and lifting his chin imperiously.

He was in an optimistic mood. He had kissed Geralt across Eskel’s broad chest last night, and it had made his witcher happy. It had made him happy too. He thrilled at the memory. Now, he was about to meet the rest of the Kaer Morhen witchers as a beloved guest of Eskel. Heaven couldn’t hold a candle to this.

Meeting Lambert was a tiny bit nerve wrecking since he had been so warned about the younger witcher’s temperament. But Dandelion wasn’t as easy to insult as people assumed him to be. Also, his visible Oxenfurt lace bra felt like a good luck charm.

They turned a corner and descended a flight of stairs. He heard the clattering of pans in the distance. The kitchen was close by.

“Hey,” said Eskel from behind him.

Dandelion turned, and Eskel grasped his hips, fingers pressing into the soft fabric and warming his skin.

“It’s going to be fine,” he murmured into his ear.

Dandelion pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “I forget you can read me like a book.”

“I can’t read your thoughts,” said Eskel “but I can hear your heart. It’s gonna beat out of your chest and fly away.”

“I’m just excited.”

Eskel planted a kiss on his forehead. “Me too.”

When they entered the kitchens, Dandelion jangled with joy and nerves. An older witcher, must have been Vesemir, stood at the stove, poking at a pan of sizzling pork. Another witcher, clearly Lambert, sat at the table sipping a mug. His eyes were bleary and his features were crinkled in on themselves. Geralt was nowhere to be seen.

“Morning,” boomed Eskel. He entered the kitchen first, and Dandelion trailed behind him.

Vesemir laid down the tongs and whipped around. “Good morning,” he answered cheerily. He looked around Eskel expectantly. Eskel moved aside and Dandelion stepped forward. He clasped his hands in front of himself nervously.

“Vesemir, Lambert, this is Dandelion,” said Eskel. He said _Dandelion_ like a royal salute. His fingers hovered on the small of Dandelion’s back, gently urging him forward.

“You can call me Dandy,” said Dandelion. He held out his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Dandy,” said Vesemir. He was a handsome man with silver hair and wide set eyes. He had the same mesmerizing cat-like pupils as Geralt and Eskel. His handshake was firm and authoritative.

Lambert was still sitting. His eyes swept slowly over Dandelion. His gaze caught and stuttered on the lace slung over his shoulders. Surprise broke the grouchy expression on his face like a pebble plunking into a pond. His jaw dropped slightly and his lips parted.

 _Adorable_ , thought Dandelion. Four handsome witchers, each with their own fascinating personality. This would be the best winter of his life.

“Careful, you'll catch flies, son,” said Vesemir, over his shoulder to Lambert.

Eskel snorted mirthfully. Dandelion stifled the slightest smile. Lambert snapped his jaw closed and his face hardened. “About time you and your flower came downstairs,” he said, acting as though he hadn’t heard Vesemir. “If you slept any longer, we’d have to call it hibernation.”

“Hi Lambert, it’s nice to properly meet you,” said Dandelion. He smiled sweetly and batted his eyes.

Lambert snorted and waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah, I’m a treat and a fuckin delight.” He looked steadfastly away.

Eskel surveyed the table. “Vesemir, I thought you said meat is a breakfast for people who are lazy and have no intention of working.”

“Yeah,” said Lambert into his mug. “Don’t be fooled, little flower.” He was ostensibly speaking to Dandelion, but he studied the bottom of his mug. “This is the Vesemir for visitors. _We_ don’t get this kind of treatment.”

Vesemir spread his arms, “We don’t often have visitors in the winter, it’s a special occasion. I made some sausages and bread yesterday and heated them up this morning. Here, Dandy, have a seat, I’ll get you a plate.”

“Oh, thank you, sir,” said Dandelion. He caught Lambert rolling his eyes in his peripheral vision.

“You don’t need to call me ‘sir’,” said Vesemir, turning around and putting a plate down on the table. He wore simple work clothes, similar to the ones the other witchers wore, with sturdy work boots. His hair was neatly pulled out of his face. “‘Vesemir’ will do.”

“Or ‘old coot’,” said Lambert.

Vesemir lightly swatted Lambert on the back of the head.

Eskel pulled out a chair and nodded to it. Dandelion lowered himself into the offered chair, smoothing his skirt primly. Lambert pretended he wasn’t following his every movement. Vesemir set a mug down in front of him.

“Geralt already started patching up the roof without you,” said Lambert, pointing at Eskel with his bread. “That’s hard work by yourself.”

“I’ll go help him,” said Eskel. “I’ll take this.” He grabbed a cup of coffee. “You comin’?” he asked, nodding at Lambert.

“Fuck no,” said Lambert. “You couldn’t pay me to be around the two of you today.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Eskel. He leaned against the back of Dandelion’s chair.

Dandelion glanced discreetly at Vesemir, and the witcher was eating placidly as though he couldn’t hear the two younger men bickering.

“It means,” said Lambert, “on a good day you’re making moon eyes or brooding at each other. Today is gonna be ten times worse, with all the drama the little flower here kicked up.” Again, he studiously did not look at Dandelion.

“Hey,” said Eskel. “He has a name.”

Lambert shrugged. “Like I said, you couldn’t pay me to deal with your high drama. Oven needs fixing, so that’s what I’m gonna do. Then work on the stairs.”

Dandelion felt like he’d missed something. Like there had been a pop quiz called and he’d come to class unprepared. But he wasn’t going to ask. He was going to observe.

“Alright, suit yourself,” said Eskel. He turned to Vesemir. “I’m gonna find Geralt. Can you make sure this chucklefuck behaves himself?”

“I’ll look after our guest,” said Vesemir. “Don’t worry, he’s in good hands.”

“Thanks Ves.” Eskel leaned down. Dandelion felt him close by, so he tilted his head to receive a kiss on the cheek from his witcher. Eskel was warm and his jaw was pleasantly prickly. It sent a shiver down his spine. Then Eskel squeezed his shoulder with his free hand. Dandelion reached for it and squeezed back. “Have a good day, darling. Love you.”

Eskel hesitated only a fraction of a second before he murmured, “Love you too,” in Dandelion’s ear. He placed one more peck, this time on his ear, and he headed off.

Dandelion looked back at Vesemir and Lambert. They sat on the other side of the sturdy oak table, both of their faces frozen in shock. Lambert had his mug halfway to his mouth as he gaped.

Vesemir recovered first. His face broke into a pleased smile. “Well, Dandy,” said Vesemir, “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m gonna start on the stove,” broke in Lambert. His mug clattered down on the table and he pulled himself up.

Vesemir nodded. “I set the tools out next to it.”

Lambert went over to the stove, which was in a corner of the kitchen just in the periphery of Dandelion’s vision. He could see Lambert’s back as he turned and crouched, opening the toolbox with a bang. His brown work shirt was pulled tight between his shoulders as he reached for the tools. He was about the same size as Dandelion, but he was wiry and hardened from labor. His ass was narrow but pert and if Dandelion were a man who easily experienced shame, he might have felt bad for noticing it with such pleasure.

Thankfully, he wasn’t such a man.

Dandelion decided to address Lambert and praise his work, just to test the waters. He raised his voice. “I bet it’ll be helpful to have both ovens working for Ziady. It’s coming up so soon. And you have so many souls outside to honor.”

Ziady, the holiday to honor the dead, was indeed coming up soon. People traditionally baked bread for their loved ones who had passed on, and left them at the graves. Dandelion assumed they must leave them by the moat or perhaps sprinkle the crumbs into the water.

Two working ovens would make the job much easier.

Lambert snorted. Dandelion could hear him, even though his head was now facing the non-functioning oven.

“Yeah, we don’t celebrate that,” he echoed into the oven.

He continued working without another word. However, his comment hung in the air between Vesemir and Dandelion, who were now sitting alone at the table facing each other. Vesemir quickly punctured it by changing the subject entirely.

“So, where were we. Oh yes, how did you sleep? I hope well?”

“Very well, thank you,” said Dandelion. “Comfortable.” He had slept on a massive bed with two obscenely sexy witchers. _Comfortable_ undersold the matter. But he would attempt to restrain his complete honesty in the service of manners.

“Good,” said Vesemir. “Good to hear. And how was the trip up yesterday?”

“Just fine,” said Dandelion. “With two witchers guiding me, I couldn’t go wrong.”

Lambert began pulling parts out of the oven and clanking ensued in the background.

“Good,” said Vesemir.

“I met your lady in Posada,” said Dandelion, hearkening back to the shopkeeper. “Bedelia? Lovely woman. She asked that we convince you to come back for a visit soon. She was quite appreciative. And eager. You should hurry back as soon as the snow melts.”

Vesemir pinked a bit on his cheeks. “Ah yes, I surely will.” He cleared his throat. “Bedelia is a good woman. A good woman.”

Dandelion smiled merrily and took a bite of a sausage. The flavors burst across his tongue and he groaned and closed his eyes involuntarily. “Oh god, is that marjoram? And garlic?”

He opened his eyes to see Vesemir grinning. “Yes. And a bit of sea salt and fresh cracked pepper.”

“The balance of the flavors is brilliant. The casing is the perfect texture, too. Gods, this is delicious.”

“Thank you, Dandy.”

“This is exactly how my father used to make it.”

It was true. Those were the spices his father used. The combination brought him back to Sunday mornings sitting on the veranda eating breakfast with his family when he was just a little lad.

“Well, he knew how to cook then,” said Vesemir proudly.

“He truly did,” said Dandelion. “I wish I knew how to do it. He used to try to get me to pay attention. But I was so little and I didn’t care. Now I wish I had.”

Vesemir nodded. “That’s how it is. We only care about those kinds of lessons after we’ve come of age ourselves.”

Dandelion took a sip of the coffee. It was nutty and had obviously been ground fresh and prepared slowly. He could get used to starting his days this way.

“And where are you from, Dandy? Redania, right? That’s where you were living when you first met Eskel?”

“Yes,” said Jaskier. “We were living in a rural area just outside of Novigrad when the fates brought Eskel to us, just in the nick of time.”

“We know the story well around here. Eskel and the basilisk,” Vesemir said with pride. “I made the sword pendant now gracing your neck.”

Jaskier fingers went to the pendant, brushing the cool metal lying against his chest.

Lambert sat back from the stove and wiped his brow. “We wear pendants like that when we do something right. To remind ourselves that we aren’t the demons people say we are. They mean something.”

“I’m honored to wear it,” said Dandelion fervently.

Lambert continued working without another word.

“Eskel said you made it in your own forge,” said Dandelion, turning again to Vesemir. “It’s stunning. The workmanship is exquisite.”

“Why thank you,” Vesemir nodded slightly. “It suits you. And how is your sister and the little one? The one saved by the sword?”

“Good!” said Dandelion. He could feel his own face brightening at the thought of his girls. “My sister is an advisor at court in Tretogor. And my Lety isn’t so little anymore. She’s training to be a midwife.”

“You must be proud,” Vesemir said kindly.

“I am indeed,” said Dandelion.

“They should visit here sometime,” he continued, “so we can all meet the little girl that Eskel pulled out of the basilisk belly.”

“I bet they’d love that,” said Dandelion. Both Sarah and Lety remembered Eskel with fondness. Also, it had been entirely unavoidable for them to learn about the witchers of Kaer Morhen. Years of Dandelion fluttering around, talking a mile a minute, had taught them the basics by sheer osmosis.

“Are they disappointed that you’re passing the winter here instead of with them?” asked Vesemir. He scooted his empty plate to the side and folded his hands on the table. He had only eaten half a roll. The food had clearly been for Dandelion’s benefit. It made him feel important, like a suitor who had already earned the blessing of his father-in-law.

“Maybe a little,” said Dandelion. He warmed his hands on his mug. “But they understand. I’ve written to my sister a few times and she’s happy for me.”

“They sound like good people,” Vesemir said with a small smile.

“They are,” Dandelion agreed.

“And what about your employment?” asked Vesemir. “Were they open to losing you for the winter?”

“They complained a bit,” Dandelion admitted with a soft chuckle. “They can make do without me. There’s less business in winter. But we’re all very close. So they’ll miss me. But Triss actually gifted Eskel and me with magical mirrors, and we left one so I can stay in touch with them.”

In Dandelion’s mind, he had already upgraded his accidental leaving of the mirror as something he’d done on purpose.

“You work in Sodden, right? At a brothel? You work as a-” Vesemir stopped short and considered his words “-is ‘whore’ the right word? Or does that cause offense?”

Dandelion smiled comfortingly. Most people tried to skirt around his profession. It was touching that Vesemir wanted to address it and respectfully. “We prefer the term ‘harlot’,” he answered.

“Harlot it is then,” said Vesemir.

“But, I don’t always take offense at ‘whore’,” said Dandelion. “Like everything else, it depends on the context. Who says it and how.”

Vesemir nodded, and took a sip of his coffee. “That makes sense. Well, you’ll have to thank them for me for lending you to us. I’ve never seen Eskel so chipper.”

A snort came from the corner of the kitchen. Dandelion and Vesemir both ignored it.

“And your parents?” asked Vesemir. “Where were they from?”

“Petyr of Tretogor and Lysandia of Gors Velen. They loved the theater, the arts, their children, and the coast. They made a huge impact in the short time that I had them. It’s because of my father that I write poetry, and because of my mother that I like to sing and I’m teaching myself to play the lute.”

“Oh,” chortled Vesemir, “that’s wonderful.” He raised his voice. “Lambert, you hear that? Dandy sings and plays the lute!” Lambert grunted. Vesemir’s enthusiasm was not dampened. “How about a song one of these nights? We have to do the weaving and knitting for the spring textile sale in a few weeks. We sit for hours in the hall. It would be a luxury if we had entertainment, other than Lambert’s filthy jokes.”

“Hey,” said Lambert, alongside the rhythmic squeaking that sounded like a wrench, “my jokes are fucking hilarious.”

Vesemir chuckled and so did Dandelion. “While I cannot speak to the quality of Lambert’s jokes yet,” said Dandelion, “I can certainly agree to provide some entertainment. I’ve never been a shy man. Is the main hall the room I passed on the way here from Eskel’s room? The one with the big tapestries? Of the elf landing?”

“No, no,” said Vesemir. “That’s one of the old dining rooms.”

“Do you- do you mind giving me a tour?” asked Dandelion. “If that wouldn’t be too much trouble? I’ve really been looking forward to seeing this place.”

A grin spread across Vesemir’s place. “You have?”

“Yes,” said Dandelion. “Very much.” He decided to just be forthright. “I’ve read about Kaer Morhen in a book.” There had actually been multiple books. There was a limit to his forthrightness.

Vesemir’s eyes lit up. “Have you really?”

“Yes,” said Jaskier. “ _The Continent’s Ancient Sea Keeps_. I found it at an estate sale of a Oxenfurt professor of architecture and masonry.”

“That true?” asked Vesemir. “Kaer Morhen? In a book? Well, I can see why. It’s a special place.” He looked around the kitchen as though assessing it. “It’s broken down since the siege, but I try to keep it in shape. But there’s only so much I can do, really.”

“I think you do a tremendous job. I haven’t seen much, but it really is stunning. They don’t build keeps like this anymore.”

Vesemir puffed out his chest just a bit. “I would like to see a book like that though. You’ll have to bring it next time.”

“I brought it this time,” said Dandelion. He reached for the bag on his shoulder. Vesemir’s eyes shone and a hopeful look froze on his face as Dandelion pulled out the book and held it out.

Vesemir reached out but just before Dandelion placed the book in his hands he drew it back.

“Wait, no,” said Vesemir. “Not in here, I don’t want it to be damaged. I’ve got grease on my fingers. Let’s look at it in the library after you eat.”

“Alright,” said Dandelion. He tucked it back into his bag.

Vesemir and Dandelion chatted quite a bit longer. It was pleasant chatter about keeps and books and architecture. Lambert squeaked and banged around in the oven.

Dandelion felt satisfied by how the conversation was going, and his mind was already jumping to the tour and the wonders it would bring. But when Vesemir finally suggested they go, when he stood, Dandelion noticed the barest tremble in his hands, which were pressed on the table.

The older witcher braced himself on the table and shook his head.

“Are you alright?” asked Dandelion.

There was a beat of silence and Vesemir smiled. “Oh yes. Completely fine.” There was a longer silence as Vesemir looked into the middle distance. “You know, I am going to have to put off the tour though. I have some things to do that I forgot about.” He smiled patiently and nodded. “Is that alright?”

“Of course,” said Dandelion. “Anytime. I’m here all winter.”

“Yes,” said Vesemir. “Perfect. I’ll take my leave then. Lambert can show you around for now. The basics, so you can find your way around. I’ll give you the grand tour later on.”

“Yes, good, yes,” said Dandelion. Something seemed off. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” said Vesemir. He turned to Lambert. “Show Dandelion around?”

“I’m busy,” said Lambert.

But Vesemir didn’t argue. He just left. Dandelion was left standing, wondering exactly what had happened.

The moment the kitchen was empty other than Lambert and him, the witcher stood up and his tools dropped with a clang.

“Was he alright?” asked Dandelion. “Vesemir. It seemed like he got dizzy or something.”

“He’s fine,” said Lambert. “Witchers don't get sick.”

He wiped his hands on a towel. Then he walked over to Dandelion’s side of the table. He straddled the bench so that he was facing Dandelion, legs splayed wide in his tight trousers. He knocked the table in front of him.

Dandelion looked at him questioningly. “Yes?”

“Now that he’s gone, we need to talk. I’m the honest one in this place. I say the things they won’t.” He jerked his head towards the door.

“Alright,” said Dandelion. Three words played in his mind. _Here we go._

“What the fuck kind of game are you playing at, flower?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading darlings!! Thank you Sarathebonsai for the Vesemir idea 'you'll catch flies' lmao.
> 
> I want to especially thank readers of this fic, because I crunched some numbers on my annual 2020 stats and while this fic has the fewer subs and hits in relation to my other two WIPs, it has the most comments in proportion to hits. SO MANY COMMENTS by comparison. I AM SO GRATEFUL.
> 
> You are literally my most generous readership with the comments and with coming back and keeping up with the fic, even when I go weeks and even almost months without updating.
> 
> I promise I am always working on it, I just really take a long time to get things where I feel they're reading to be published.
> 
> To thank you here are two things. 1) I'm going to publish another chapter right after I hit publish on this. You get two this time. 2) I posted a 'thank you' post ESPECIALLY for my readers for 2020, so if you want to know how I feel about you go check it out on tumblr or twitter. 
> 
> Tumblr: [Thank you](https://fangirleaconmigo.tumblr.com/post/639072066418671616/thank-you)
> 
> Twitter: [Thank you](https://twitter.com/BuffySummers10/status/1349785619858264065?s=20)  
> If you sub to my profile, I'll be posting that link once in my other two WIPs as well, so subs to all three WIPs hopefully all eventually see it.
> 
> Thanks again, and I'll meet you in the comments, loves.


	10. Delicious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lambert warns Dandelion that if he breaks Eskel's heart, he is prepared to do him harm.
> 
> It doesn't go as he expected it would.
> 
> \--------  
> Dandelion licked his lips. “I’m not frightened of you. Growl all you like, but I can assure you it isn’t having the effect you desire.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
> 
> “Liar,” said Lambert defiantly. “Didn’t Eskel tell you we can hear heartbeats? Yours is a jackhammer right now.” His eyes faltered to Dandelion's chest.
> 
> “Oh, sweet Melitele,” said Dandelion, dragging his fingers down his own chest and covering his heart. “You witchers. Always eavesdropping on a man’s heart. Well, here is a hint.” He lowered his heavily made up eyelashes. “When a handsome, riled up man scoots up close enough that I can smell his soap, and he’s passionately defending the man I love, it’s...quite thrilling? My heart speeds up. My body warms.” He smiled slowly.
> 
> Lambert’s eyes widened. “Wait. What the fuck. Are you saying you’re horny right now?” His voice broke on the word horny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No content warnings. Just a bit of conversation.

Dandelion

Dandelion carefully assessed Lambert.

The accusatory words and gruff tone wasn’t the kind of reception he had hoped for, he could admit. But it actually wasn’t his worst nightmare. His worst nightmare had been that the witchers would see him as weak and useless. An inconvenience.

He wasn’t sure what this Lambert situation was yet, but he’d play along to find out. He would also enjoy this extreme proximity to the witcher, who’s coiled musculature and intensity offered much to relish.

“Game?” he replied calmly. He looked down and casually straightened the dropped neckline on his blouse, which was hitched up slightly on one side.

“Yeah, game,” grunted Lambert. His eyes darted to his bare shoulders but he caught himself quickly. “I saw you. Simpering all over Eskel. Batting your eyelashes. Saying all that shit-”

“Saying that _I love him_?” Dandelion cut him off incredulously.

There it was. Doubt that he truly loved Eskel. That didn’t bother Dandelion in the slightest. It bounced right off of him. He so truly and deeply loved Eskel that it wasn’t something he felt insecure about. And without insecurity, nothing can really sting.

Also, in that moment, with Lambert’s canny eyes on him, he couldn’t help but believe that it was patently obvious that he loved Eskel. Lambert could scent him. Lambert could hear his heart. Lambert knew the difficulty of the journey to Kaer Morhen and that he left his family for the winter.

If Lambert was challenging his love for Eskel, there was something else at play here, and Dandelion would figure it out. He loved a good puzzle.

“Yeah,” said Lambert. “Acting like you’re a sweet little house husband telling your man to have a nice day in the fields. Get the fuck outta here.”

“Oh dear,” said Jaskier. He dabbed his face with the cloth left by his plate and lowered it into his lap. “Yes, Geralt seemed to have trouble with this as well.”

Geralt had seemed to think that witchers were not capable of significant or long term romance. Was it the same with this one?

“Oh, you’ve already got Geralt fooled,” huffed Lambert.

“I have?”

“Yes. But not me.” He jabbed a finger in Dandelion's direction. “You think this is just something casual. Just some game. You’re getting him all puffed up. You see that big dumb smile on his face? He’s getting his stupid squishy heart all caught in this. And the day you tell him it was just all a big adventure or a funny joke to you, it’s gonna crush him. But that day? I’ll find you wherever you go.” He scooted even closer to Jaskier on the bench, and leaned in near his ear, “And I will end you.”

Goosebumps prickled up Dandelion’s thighs. “I see,” he said. He turned to face Lambert, swinging his leg over so that they faced each other. Dandelion was wearing a skirt, so he pulled up as he moved so as not to rip it, exposing his thighs. Lambert kept his eyes carefully trained on his eyes.

It gave Dandelion the opportunity to really admire Lambert’s face. He had a light, pink scar running from his forehead to his jaw in a swoop. Dark stubble shaded the rest of his jaw. His eyes were hard but intelligent. He was very appealing.

“I’d better break the bad news to you sooner rather than later, then,” said Dandelion.

“What news?” demanded Lambert.

Dandelion licked his lips. “That I’m not frightened of you. Growl all you like, but I can assure you it isn’t having the effect you desire.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Liar,” said Lambert defiantly. “Didn’t Eskel tell you we can hear heartbeats? Yours is a jackhammer right now.” His eyes faltered to Dandelion's chest.

“Oh, sweet Melitele,” said Dandelion, dragging his fingers down his own chest and covering his heart. “You witchers. Always eavesdropping on a man’s heart. Well, here is a hint.” He lowered his heavily made up eyelashes. “When a handsome, riled up man scoots up close enough that I can smell his soap, and he’s passionately defending the man I love, it’s...quite thrilling? My heart speeds up. My body warms.” He smiled slowly.

Lambert’s eyes widened. “Wait. What the fuck. Are you saying you’re horny right now?” His voice broke on the word horny.

Dandelion tapped his chin with his finger. He tilted his head. “I’m not _erect_ or anything. Lambert’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “You’d have to work just a little harder. No offense, darling. But let’s just say that I’m stimulated.”

“Well, you should be afraid,” Lambert rumbled doubtfully.

“No, I really shouldn’t,” said Dandelion airily. “Firstly, I love Eskel. I worship the ground he walks on. I would drink his bath water, I would-“

“Alright, alright.”

“So I’m not worried about any repercussions for playing with his heart. I never would. I am most assuredly at his mercy in every way. Secondly, you simply aren’t intimidating.” He reached out to touch Lambert’s face. Lambert didn’t so much as flinch. Dandelion softly patted his cheek.

“Do you not know what a witcher is?” Lambert almost sounded petulant now. But he didn’t move away or take away Dandelion’s hand. It fell on its own after softly patting the witcher’s cheek.

“I do,” said Dandelion reassuringly.

“We’re mutated to kill,” he said. The anger had drained from his voice. He sounded bewildered. It was precious.

“Yes. To kill monsters. And I’m only a monster in the sack.” Jaskier nudged him playfully.

Lambert stared. “I don’t think you’re taking this seriously. I could kill you with my bare hands.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose in apparent frustration. Dandelion admired the grace of his fingers. Men with large hands didn’t always have graceful fingers.

“So could a lot of people,” Dandelion said brightly. He smiled brilliantly. “Doubtless an appropriately motivated lemur could get that job done.”

“We’re. Mutants,” said Lambert helplessly. He lifted his hands and dropped them.

“I really don’t know why that’s so significant to you,” said Dandelion. “Nature is full of mutations. I have a friend with one brown eye and one blue eye. Fabulous. So they engineered yours! So what? You’re more flexible, stronger, better reflexes, you have fantastic eyes, stop me any time this sounds unattractive instead of wildly sexy.”

Lambert gaped.

“Besides darling-”

“Darling? That is the second time you’ve called me darling.”

Dandelion leaned forward. He lightly touched Lambert’s knee with a finger, and when Lambert didn’t move away or object, he rested it there.

“You don’t like darling? My sugar dumpling then? My angerberry muffin? My rage potato pie?”

Lambert spluttered. “I’m a witcher. A stone cold killer. Not a. A. Muffin.” He had managed to summon a twinge of irritation with what looked like a significant amount of effort. However he ended quite weakly on _muffin_.

“Well, do you know the saying? When in Cintra, do as the Cintrans?”

“How the fuck does that apply here?” Lambert glanced down at Jaskier’s hand and its rings where it rested on his knee and he flushed.

“Well, it generally refers to the advice that when you find yourself in a new place,” Dandelion gestured around him to Kaer Morhen, “you watch and copy the customs and behaviors you see.”

“And?”

“And? You called me flower several times. A lovely nickname, might I add,” he delicately touched his neck as he spoke. “So, I called _you_ a lovely nickname. One sweet nickname for another.”

Lambert rumbled something incomprehensible in the back of his throat.

Dandelion feigned surprise and clutched his breast dramatically. “Wait. Were you trying to diminish me with the nickname?! You weren’t trying to diminish me, were you? After all, I am a guest of our beloved Eskel and I must be nervous for your approval, vulnerable, anxious, in an unknown place like a lamb to the slaughter-“

Lambert snorted.

“So a little compassion would dictate a smidge of kindness, which I’m sure is what you were offering me.” Dandelion fluttered his eyelashes. “Right, darling?”

Lambert gritted his teeth. But interestingly he still allowed Dandelion to touch him. “There’s no way you love Eskel the way you claim. He’s a witcher.”

And there it was.

“I see,” said Dandelion. “Let me review these truths you have so bravely told me.” He held up a finger as though to count. “You don’t call a witcher pet names.” He held up a second finger. “And you don’t love a witcher, at least not in a serious, sincere, stable way.”

“Exactly. We aren’t cut out for it.” Lambert crossed his arms, though it didn’t seem like an aggressive gesture, more like a defensive one.

“Yes, there is the crux of the matter,” said Dandelion. “We have arrived at the key issue.”

“What?” said Lambert.

“Well. You don’t think I could possibly love Eskel because he’s a witcher. But _you’re_ a witcher. So what you are actually saying is you _also_ can’t be loved! So ultimately this seems to spring from some deep belief that you _yourself_ are unworthy of love. Which does hurt my heart. You are so worthy of love. You are precious. It’s obvious just looking at you. But you’re also precious to Eskel. To Geralt. And I can tell already we are going to have a special bond indeed.”

“What. The. Fuck,” Lambert stated. He finally pulled away, swinging his legs back around and sitting normally on the bench. “What the fuck do you know about me?”

“You seem shocked by my honesty,” said Dandelion, shrugging. “Honestly, I find that shocking. You say you value the truth; that you are willing to say the things others are not. I’m just telling the truth. I’m matching your energy here, gorgeous.”

“Fuck you,” said Lambert.

Dandelion nodded approvingly. “I can ask Eskel. He may not mind at all. In fact he might be enthusiastic. I certainly would be.”

“Dear gods,” said Lambert. He rubbed his face with both hands. “What is happening here?” He was asking a rhetorical question, but Dandelion answered anyway.

“I can’t speak for you darling, but this feels like flirting to me.”

Lambert rose, looking stunned. He backed towards the door. “I. I’m going to go now.” He shook his finger towards Dandelion. “I’m not sure yet what just happened here, but I’ve got my eye on you.” Lambert took off towards the door, tripping slightly over what could have been a rug.

“Before you storm off,” called Dandelion after him, “do you mind still showing me around? You can threaten me with bodily harm a few more times, I won’t mind.”

“And one more thing,” said Lambert, whipping around. He clearly hadn’t been listening to a word he’d said. Something was pricking at him. His brow was furrowed.

He pointed at Dandelion’s shoulder. Dandelion looked down at himself and back up at Lambert quizzically.

“How can you do that?” asked Lambert accusingly.

“What?” asked Dandelion. He was legitimately puzzled.

“Wear _that_ like _that_?” he said, unhelpfully.

“I’m sorry, muffin, please explain.”

Lambert didn’t object to muffin that time, which Dandelion decided to take as progress.

“That Oxenfurt lace,” he said. His voice was beginning to sound a little cracked.

Dandelion's mouth opened to answer but his slack lips made nothing but confused noises.

Lambert rolled his eyes and tried again. “You just wear it _out_ like that.”

“And?” asked Dandelion.

“Well,” said Lambert, slapping his hands at his sides. “You didn’t wax or shave.”

“Again, I ask. And?” asked Dandelion.

“You’re furry as a fucking otter. Hairier than me.”

“I know!” said Dandelion. “Aren’t I stunning?” He petted himself with pride.

Every once in a while someone would question the way Dandelion presented. He had no regard for the customary practice of showing oneself to be either masculine or feminine, and people occasionally attempted to mold him into something they better understood. His response was always the same.

He held his ground.

No one would ever, for as long as he lived, make him feel as though he had to choose one or the other. Fuck that. He was Dandelion, godsdamn it. He didn’t bow to gender. Gender bowed to him.

Lambert sighed. “You just aren’t at all what I expected. I thought you’d just be this little petite slip of a thing. But you’ve got these broad shoulders.”

Dandelion preened.

“You’re about my height.”

“Well, we are both extremely sexy,” said Dandelion.

“But...people who look like you...aren’t supposed to...how did you even _find_ some that would fit you right...” His throat sounded like it closed and his voice trailed off.

Dandelion’s mind whirled. “Are you...asking for my tailor’s information?”

“No!” Lambert almost shouted.

Dandelion blinked.

Lambert inhaled and exhaled slowly. “No,” he said quieter. “Just. Don’t you feel... ridiculous?”

“Not in the slightest!” exclaimed Dandelion. That was the first time that morning he’d actually felt insulted.

“Forget it,” Lambert huffed.

Before Dandelion could marshall a single syllable in response, Lambert turned on his heel and was gone.

Dandelion sat in silence, wheels turning in his mind. He tapped the table and replayed the conversation again.

Lambert had said they looked just the same.

Lambert wanted to know if he felt ridiculous in his lace.

Lambert had wanted to know how he was able to find something that fit him.

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Dandelion picked up his mug and took another sip of coffee. It took him all of five minutes to make a plan. A plan for Lambert.

What a nice surprise. This was going to be absolutely delicious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello loves, I know this is the chapter many of you have been waiting on practically since the beginning of this whole series. So many of you are Lambert stans like me. And I knew this would set the stage for their relationship, which will be so much fun.
> 
> So I took a good month writing this. I started over from scratch at least three times. Bless Manda for giving me feedback on three different chapter. Bless you my dear.
> 
> I hope it does Dandelion and Lambert justice. (fingers crossed tell me what you think)

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed, consider  
> [subscribing to me](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Descarada/profile) so you don't miss updates!
> 
> Also, if you'd like to find me on socials:
> 
> Twitter: [buffysummers10](https://twitter.com/BuffySummers10)
> 
> Tumblr: [fangirleaconmigo](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/fangirleaconmigo)  
> Feel free to send me an ask/dm to talk about the fic.
> 
> Thanks to my AMAZING GENEROUS KIND PATIENT betas.
> 
> [LovelyRita1967](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyRita1967/works) who writes sexy, sweet Geraskier (and Eskel/Lambert) romcoms and
> 
> [MandaLynn04](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MandaLynn04/pseuds/MandaLynn04/works) who writes sexy sweet Witcher cast rpfs.
> 
> If you are interested in either of those kinds of fics, check them out.


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